The Moment
by colormetheworld
Summary: AU. She does the robot around your kitchen. You love her.
1. Chapter 1

She does the robot around your kitchen.

...

At school she is quiet and reserved, her hands in the front of her sweatshirt or shoved deep in the pockets of her jeans. She doesn't go to the cafeteria for lunch and she doesn't seem to have a locker. She just appears in class every day, head down, books under her arm. She might be ashamed of her fingers. You think this because she doesn't raise her hand in class, and when she catches you staring at them she puts them away, curling her hands into fists.

You want to say you are sorry, but she looks away from you, out the window, and the slope of her neck down to her shoulder is enough to keep you occupied until the bell rings.

She bites the end of her pencil when the tests get handed out, and although you try not to look at her grade, she sits right next to you and not looking is hard. Too hard.

She's gotten a C.

You fold over your A so that she cannot see. You don't want her to feel bad. The next time the teacher says to pick pairs and go over the homework, you hand her yours before she can pick anybody else. She glances at you, but doesn't say anything, just hands her work to you and frowns down at your paper.

Her writing is tall and long and beautiful. Her answers are not. Your mother has told you to stop diagnosing people, especially when trying to make friends, but this girl has dyslexia. She must. You look up at her, to tell her, but she's bent over your paper, reading it like it might be the most interesting thing she's ever read in her life. You should be correcting hers, you should be helping her fix her answers, but instead you can do nothing but stare at her. Her eyes are brown and deep and lovely. Her eyes and her hair and…You sit back in your chair.

Oh… _she_ is lovely.

You watch as her lips move over the answer to one of the problems. She studies your answers like they're written in greek, and she needs to decipher them to survive. You want everyone to hang on your words like that.

She looks up at you, and you've been caught staring so you blush, your mother's rules about etiquette and behavior loud in your ears.

_Are you like, a genius? _If she notices your blush she doesn't say. If she noticed you staring, she has the decency to keep it to herself.

You shake your head, and immediately worry about the lie. Technically you are a genius, but at the moment you cannot think of any other word besides 'lovely," let alone a sentence that might be worthy of a genius to say.

That might be worthy of the first sentence you are ever going to say to this girl.

The bell rings.

She reaches for her paper and pulls it back onto her desk, and her face falls when she sees that you have not written anything except an x next to each problem.

You didn't get around to correcting them.

The realization hits you as you watch her sweep the page once. Twice.

Oh God.

She looks back up at you with those eyes, and the smile she puts on makes you feel dizzy.

_Okay, well…thanks._ And she's standing up and gathering her things and heading towards the door, and you cannot make any part of you move at all.

You don't feel bad about the lie anymore.

You are definitely not a genius.

You don't talk to her for weeks, but you smile at her twenty six times out of the forty seven that you pass her in the hallway. She smiles at you eleven times. Most days she is looking down at the floor or off, past you. Some days she is accompanied by a boy, competing for her attention.

Eleven times, she looks at you and smiles back. That's almost a quarter of the time.

In gym, they make you play dodge ball, which is your least favorite game. For three days in a row, you have to hide behind other people like you are in some kind of war. Today you are on her team, so you know - small comfort – that at least you will win. She is long and lithe and can throw a little rubber ball that would knock your teeth out, but mostly she takes pity and only throws half speed, her targets still too uncoordinated to get out of the way.

The girl you've been hiding behind gets smacked in the neck with a dodge ball, and because it is not her head, she is out. When you look up you realize that the opposing team has four people left.

And it is just you and her left on your team.

You see the giant (she must be at least _half_ guant) on the other team wind up like it's slow motion. You see the look on her face as she lets the ball go. Smirking. Triumphant.

You expect that this is going to leave a mark.

You turn your face away, waiting for the sting of the ball and the whistle that means the other girl is out for hitting your face, but it doesn't come.

You crack one eye open.

You are looking at the back of one long fingered hand, and for a moment, you don't understand what you are seeing, until the fingers contract around something red and rubber and push forward, away from you.

She has come. From the other side of the gym, she has come and caught the ball one handed six inches from your face, and with one, mighty heave, she has launched it back across the dividing line so hard, that when it hits its target (the stomach of the girl giant on the other team) it makes a sound like someone has dropped an egg on the sidewalk.

She disposes of the others One. Two. Three. Quickly, with little fanfare, and you notice that the way she tags them out does not nearly have the ferocity of her first. So you win, and the whistle blows and when you head to the locker room, she shoots you one smile.

You trip.

That's twelve.

Ms. Grow is your science teacher. You like her because is smart and witty and she let you take your dissected frog home to do more study. You like her because at lunch, when you have no one to sit with in the cafeteria, you can come down the hall to her classroom and she will let you feed the gerbils and the fish and you can trade facts with her about biology.

She's the first teacher you've met that knows more about plant life than you do.

Why you don't like Ms. Grow is that she assigns partner projects.

Last week it was Maria, who did not do any work, and still got one half of your A.

The week before that it was Leon, who did half of the work, which you promptly redid, and you got half of his B+. The first B in your entire life.

When you hear your name, and then her name, you look up, wide eyed, first at Ms. Grow, and then over at her.

She's not looking at you, but down at the table, face neutral.

_Alright girls?_ Ms. Grow asks? You nod.

She nods.

You feel like you've maybe won something.

But you don't speak until Friday. She shows up at your locker and you feel her presence before you turn around, so you turn around slowly, trying not to stumble, or choke, or scare her off like a deer.

She's taller than you, and her brown eyes lock onto yours the moment you look up.

_lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely_

Oh no. Don't start that again.

_I'm not good at science._

You feel disappointment expand in your stomach. She is going to ask you to do the entire thing for her. You open your mouth, frowning, shut it again.

_We can talk to Ms. Grow about getting you a new partner…who can work on your…level._ Her voice catches here, and your eyes open wide.

The first thing you ever say to this girl and it's yelling. The first thing you do in front of her dodge ball savior is cry out.

_NO!_

She takes a step back away from you, startled, eyebrows up, and you feel your face get hot again.

_No?_

_No._

_Alright. _She pauses, and she seems to be looking you over, all the way from your feet up to the patterened head band. You wonder what she sees. _Alright._

The second thing you say to her isn't right either. You want it to be a question, maybe an invitation.

What comes out is a command.

_Come to my house this weekend. _

Silence. Your eyes drop back to her shoes. They are worn and faded. You can't tell if they were blue and have worn down to grey or if they are grey and stained. You try to figure it out until you feel her hand close around yours.

She lifts your left hand in her right, up to chest level, palm to the sky, and with her left hand, starts to write on the inside of you palm. It takes you a moment to realize that she is writing numbers, that she is writing a phone number. And once your brain speeds up enough to process that fact, you realize that she concentrating hard, that each number comes slowly and deliberately. _376….42…1…8. _

You clamp your mouth shut so that the third thing you say to this girl is not 'you have dyslexia, I only think, but am pretty sure.'

_Okay. Text me that you're free._

And she's gone.

You have definitely won something.

...

So there she is.

She's doing the robot around your kitchen as you both wait for the timer that says your cookies are done. You're sitting on the counter, laughing, and she's pop and locking around the spotless granite island.

You've said much more to her now, and not all of it has been hugely embarrassing. Your last words are what have brought this spontaneous dance party on.

_I don't just suck at science. I'm good at other things. I can…dance. _

_Prove it!_ Fallen from your mouth before you had time to think, and she was up before you had time to blush, and there is something about her long limbs and the way she seems to have complete control over each and every nerve ending.

There is something about the way she does not say anything about how big your house is, or how empty.

Something about how she caught a dodge ball one handed, inches away from your face.

Something about those lovely, _lovely _brown eyes.

As she passes the spot again, where you are perched on the counter, legs swinging, you put your hand on her shoulder.

She doesn't turn to look at you, just freezes, the way a robot would freeze.

She does the robot around your kitchen.

You love her.

You giggle…and lean forward to kiss her cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

For a moment, everything freezes.

...

You. You're frozen because you're a robot and when a robot runs out of power that's what happens. They just sort of power down and they've got to wait until another robot with more power to share, or a human that can boot 'em back up comes along.

You did the robot and now your robot body is tired. So into power down mode you go.

But this girl is not a robot, and maybe not even human, but more like an angel with unlimited power that comes out of nowhere and when you're alone with her it's like you can do anything.

And when she puts her hand on your shoulder your robot heart just shuts off completely.

And when she puts her lips on your skin… well you don't just shut off.

You short circuit.

...

You hurt.

All lot of the time maybe always, there's never any way to be sure.

Push it down and away.

Go to class.

You're alone a lot of the time. Alone by yourself or alone with other people. And you don't really prefer one or the other. You don't mind not talking to other people when they are there and when they aren't there's no one to talk to and that's fine too.

Well, you didn't mind until she got there.  
Now all you want to do is talk to her. You get to school early every morning now so that you can watch her get out of the big black car that drops her off. She's always got nice clothes on, and her bag looks like it cost twice as much as your bike.

Sometimes, you watch her and then you draw her from memory during homeroom. You're a pretty good drawer, even if you don't like to show your stuff to other people, but you can't get her just right.

You try and try.

Then you throw them away.

You have one friend, who is a guy. Well, you have one friend, period, and he happens to be a guy. The best guy, though you wouldn't ever say that to his face. You like him because he walks with you from class to class and he is always talking, so you don't have to. And his talking never asks where you go at lunch.

And he doesn't think you're stupid.

You're not stupid

Well, you don't think you are stupid.

.

In math class you are definitely stupid.

You focus really hard, honestly you do, but the numbers slide away from you. You follow them along the paper with your fingers, as though you could pin them down and make them stay. Make them make sense. Your four comes out looking like an F and you erase it so hard that the eraser eats through the paper.

You sigh.

_She_ sits next to you in math, and when you glance over at her, you realize that she is staring at your hands as you chase the numbers across the page.

Oh shit. You curl your fingers, slipping them into the hollow of your desk, and look away quickly so she doesn't see that maybe your eyes just got a little watery for a second, and no big deal.

You don't look back for the whole class, not until the teacher tells you to trade homework for corrections and you feel her reach out and place her paper on your desk.

When you think of yourself, you mostly think of hurt. Most everything hurts most all of the time, but her writing is like medicine.

You squint down at the paper and the numbers catch fire.

When they slide away, they leave track marks, bright red and luminous. You bend closer, not caring if your nose is almost touching the paper.

_What are you, like, a genius?_

You don't see her shake her head, your back to looking at her paper.

You stare at each answer carefully, reading it to yourself. You do not believe what you're seeing.

Each answer makes sense.

The bell rings, and you automatically reach over and grab your paper, and immediately you are ashamed. Your numbers are not nearly as pretty. There is a nine that you meant to be a six.

Fucking idiot.

Smile, you order your face, and it obeys.

You thank her, and she doesn't answer. She's just looking at you.

Get up. Go! Your body obliges.

The hurt is back.

You pass her in the hallway at the end of last period, but you are too busy focusing on breathing, so you don't notice her smile until it's too late to return it.

God damn it.

Next time.

Maybe you _are_ growing too fast, like Ma says. Maybe you are growing too fast and that's why your joints ache all the time. That's why you can't focus in class and it takes you twice as long to ride your bike to school as it did last year.

Nah.

You know the real reason your body always feels like it's on fire and you keep it to yourself because nobody needs to know what kind of person you are and even if you said something it wouldn't actually do anything so just shut the hell up about it okay?

In the locker room, changing for gym is when you see it. You change in a bathroom stall instead of out with all the other girls, and when you pop the door open, she's the only one left. She's pulling her shirt down over her back, and there's just one big purple bruise on her ribcage. A circle like.

Exactly like a dodge ball.

You frown, but you stay still until she leaves and then you leave too. And when the teacher starts counting off, you shift so that you are both twos.

She's tied her hair back into a ponytail, and she looks tiny and scared on the gym floor as the whistle blows and the game starts.

All game, you protect her.

You take out the biggest threats first. Tammy who looks like she's part mountain. Alissa who's small and reedy, but can throw a ball hard enough to make it whistle.

So can you, don't fucking doubt it, but this is gym, not Vietnam.

And then Lira hits your second to last team mate in the neck and it's just you two, alone.

Against four.

You take stock quickly. Two that couldn't hit the empire state building from ten feet away. One that can't catch.

And Lira.

She's already winding up, and you can tell by her stance that she's going to hit your teammate in the face.

And it's your job to protect her.

Lira is a fucking bitch.

So you run. You run cross court and you have to dodge two balls and you think you might not make it but you do.

And when you feel your hand close around the red rubber ball, you forget that your joints ache and you forget that this is gym, and you forget that this is not Vietnam, because you're looking at her face.

Turned away and already wincing, scared and vulnerable.

And you turn away and set and throw as hard as you can, even if your shoulder does scream in protest, because what the fuck does that matter as long as this girl doesn't bruise again?

After Lira goes down, there is nothing between you and victory, and you take graciously, like your team always does.

And when you walk into the locker room, you smile at her, taking care to give her something genuine.

To make up for that time you missed in the hall.

Here is the reason you like Ms. Grow. She talks to you like you're a human. Sometimes, when going home isn't an option, you wander down the hall to her classroom and thumb through her volumes on the solar system.

Sometimes, if you are real quiet, and maybe if she doesn't have a ton of tests to grade, she'll come and talk to you about outer space.

The planets spin when you look at them, even though you know they're on paper and can't. But your fingers chase down a word called orbit, and Ms. Grow says that means that the planets are moving.

_Why can't we learn this in class? Why do I have to balance equations and crap like that?_

_Next year, you'll take a Science class that you'll like much better. _

_Will you be my teacher?_

_If you're lucky._

You don't tell her that next year you won't be here. You don't tell her that you turn seventeen in April. And you're dropping out.

You just smile. But another reason that you like Ms. Grow is that she looks at you like she knows what you're thinking, even when you don't say it.

When you finally track her down at her locker, it's Friday and the week's hurt is hard in your shoulders and lower back.

You expect her to jump at the chance to switch partners.

You expect her to thank you and runoff.

You expect her to be guilty and grateful and to blush.

She is nothing like you expected.

When you write your number on her hand, you focus so hard that you think she might be able to see steam coming out of your ears. 376…you try to think of the difference between a four and a seven. You _know_ the difference, but you fingers don't.

C'mon you little fuckers, make a four and then a two.

One's easy. Just a line. Two zeros like a snow man and you are home free.

_Text me that you are free_.

You bolt before she can ask you why the hell writing your phone number was harder than staying awake in History.

You almost die that night when she texts you her address. _Come Saturday. Dinner time. _It says. And then, almost immediately after that another one pings through.

_Please, I mean. Please come Saturday if you can. I'm really looking forward to working with you, Jane._

For a second there is a heat that eclipses the pain.

Her eyes are green and like the most wonderful you've ever seen. She looks down at the science book and you watch her face. It's so expressive.

You try out a thinking face, maybe like the one she's got on, but the muscles feel out of practice. She looks up at you and you drop your head, embarrassed.

_Are you alright?_

You nod. And you feel her studying you. Taking in not just your answer but everything about you, from the way you sit to the tap of your shoe on her carpet.

_Are you hungry?_ _We have a ton of food._ She blushes although you don't know why. You are starving. _You want to make, like…cookies or something?_

You want to tell her that there are between two hundred and four hundred billion stars in the milky way, but when you look up, you could only ever see, like, twenty five hundred of them.

You are one of the ones that no one can see.

She is one of the ones that's even visible in the city.

_If you don't want cookies, we could have something else. Almost…anything else…_ Another blush.

You shake your head and then nod, and she raises her eyebrows.

_Cookies sounds great. _

_I'm not stupid. _It comes out while you're waiting for the timer. She looks at you, startled.

_I know,_ she says, very seriously.

_I don't just suck at science…I'm good at other stuff…I can…you know….dance._

Her smile is sudden and brilliant. You almost fall off your stool.

_Prove it._

So here you are. Her laughter was like your robot fuel, as you jerked around the kitchen island. She would laugh and you would move.

Laugh. Move. Laugh. Move.

Like you needed her to keep going.

But she stops laughing when you come full circle, and you power down in front of her, just a robot with nothing to make it go.

You almost start to panic that you've done something wrong. You almost turn your head to look at her to see if she's alright.

But then you feel her hand on your shoulder. And it tightens as she pulls herself forward, and puts her mouth on your cheek.

And for one blissful, peaceful moment.

Everything freezes. 

* * *

**For Davislp, who wanted the other side. Honestly, guys? this is a baby fic I've got sitting around. That I made before JGMAR. I'm so glad that you all liked the first part, and I'm happy to put more here for you...but it's nothing like my other stuff and it's kindof sad. **

**Not like character death sad or anything. **

**but just sort of sad and sweet and sad and sad. **

**it's also mostly in 2nd person. which can be grating. **

**So you guys are the leaders here. If you want more, you've just gotta say. if you don't want to review, you can PM. If you don't care...don't do either and I'll get the hint :)**

as always, your comments make me squee like a teenage girl. 

**happy reading. **

**tc**


	3. Chapter 3

You don't have any idea what you did before her.

She is on your mind constantly.

When you wake up in the morning and when you go to bed at night.

...

Two weeks ago, you kissed her on the cheek in your kitchen, and she had turned to look at you, her movements like slow motion.

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other, her dark eyes searching your face, looking for something. You could feel yourself going red under her gaze, but when you'd opened your mouth to tell her how sorry you were, that you didn't mean it, you couldn't do it.

You weren't sorry.

You _did_ mean it.

_It's my dancing. _She'd said into the silence, and you'd looked up , eyes wide. _It's just that good. _

The surprised and delighted giggle that you'd let out, so relieved that it was almost a sob, makes her face relax.

The timer for the cookies dinged and you slid off your stool, feeling her eyes follow you across the kitchen. _Yes. It's just that good. _

...

You realize pretty quickly that your hand on her shoulder was a fluke, and that kissing her was as close to a miracle as you've ever come. She doesn't like to be touched.

You don't know where she goes after school or at lunch, but you don't ask, and little by little she relaxes around you.

She is waiting for you every morning when you get out of your car, and she walks close enough to you that sometimes you brush shoulders.

Gym is your second favorite class now.

Behind Math.

There is no one else you trade papers with in math class anymore.

.

Far from stupid, you discover that she is brilliant. She doesn't talk very much, but she remembers everything you say, and she hangs on your every word like she could eat them, her eyes never leaving your face.

It's like you are the first person to really speak to her, and by the way she turns and walks away after you've gotten into your car at the end of the school day, maybe you are.

But weeks after you've told her something, some random fact that anyone else would forget immediately, she will repeat it back to you verbatim, and you start talking to her about her classes, going over everything the teacher has said, adding anecdotes and facts here and there.

She nods to show she is listening, and once, she asks you a question. Her deep voice around your name makes your stomach flip over.

_What does that mean, Maura…viscosity?_

She loves when you talk about geography, and you love it when she smiles, so you tell her everything that you can think of, including all of the theories on how the Grand Canyon was formed, how the states on the east coast got their shapes.

She shakes her head, in awe.

_You know so much about so much. _

From other people, that feels like an insult. When she says it, you can't stop grinning.

.

_Do you know what dyscalculia is?_

It's math class, and she's staring down at her problem sheet and you watch her fingers slide up the paper, like she's following a roadmap.

You're supposed to be working on the problem set together, but you finish it quickly and then slide closer to her. She tenses when you put your hand on her desk.

_No._ She slips a finger up her paper. You bite your lip.

You have so far avoided talking directly about her school work, but you watch her slip Cs and Ds into her bag day after day, and your chest aches a little. You want to help.

_Are the numbers…moving?_

She looks up at you sharply, and then back down at her paper, but she doesn't deny it.

You bend down and take a blank sheet of paper out of your bag and in the middle of it your write the first problem in big block numbers.

_Okay._ You say quietly, so no one can hear you, sliding the paper towards her. _Trace the question._

She looks at you hard. _What?_

You move your fingers over the numbers, showing her. _Trace the question. Like this_. _Put it in your memory._

She looks down at the question for a long moment, and you can only hear your heartbeat, loud in your ears. Have you done the wrong thing?

But then, she reaches out, one long finger at the top of the three you've made. And concentrating like her life depends on it she starts to trace the number.

Almost immediately, her hand starts to drift, following an invisible path you can't see. You wonder what it's like in her mind. What she's seeing.

Slowly, carefully, you reach out and put your finger next to hers, so that they are touching. Gently, glancing at her face to make sure that she's not upset, you nudge her finger back down, onto the black curve of the three.

_Keep going._

She does. And every time she gets off track, you push her back, and at the end of the equation, she looks up at you, eyes wide.

_Seventeen_. She says.

You feel like you've won the lottery.

_That's right. _

...

Saturday and it's pouring.

You're sitting in the back of your car on your way home from the library. Your driver holds an umbrella over you from the door of the building to the door of the car, and he holds the door open for you as you get in.

_Thank you, Charlie_.

He smiles at you, but doesn't answer. He's not supposed to answer you, but you wish he would.

Saturdays are quickly becoming a lesson in torture.

Your vision is blurry with the desire to see her.

Although you spend so much time together at school, she has not been over to your house since the night you kissed her, and you can't quite bring yourself to invite her without a reason.

What if it happens again?

You can't tell if this thought makes you breathless with dread or with excitement.

The tips of your fingers go numb.

You take out your phone and put it away so many times that you think your driver will suspect that you have OCD.

Your car splashes around the corner and there she is, as if conjured up out of the ground simply by the ferocity with which you wished for her.

She is there, sitting on a park bench in the pouring rain, and aren't there a dozen songs and movies and books where you wish for the person you love and they appear magically in front of you?

You cry out, pressing your hand against the window.

_Charlie! Stop the car!_

You are out before your driver can come around and get the door, not caring that you are immediately soaked through.

She doesn't see you, and you…

You have never seen anything as beautiful or as devastating. While you're watching, she shudders, leaning forward to hug herself, resting her chin in the hollow between her pulled up knees. She shuts her eyes.

You say her name, but she doesn't hear you.

You move closer and call out again, and she jerks up at the sound, wincing.

When she sees you, her face goes blank.

Her lips are blue.

You both stand there, and it's pouring, and you don't know what to say and she doesn't seem to know what to say and it dawns on you that the two of you spend most of your time just… looking at each other.

You point to your car.

_Come on._

You are startled and thrilled when she stands up and follows you.

...

While she's in the shower, you take her wet clothes down to the laundry room. You check her pockets before tossing her jeans in the washer and pull out her cell phone, seventy two cents and a crumpled piece of notebook paper. You put them all on top of the dryer, smoothing the paper out.

It's a drawing of a girl reading a book.

No...

Your eyes widen.

It's a drawing of _you_ reading a book.

You pick the piece of paper up and study it.

It's very, very good.

...

Out of the shower and dressed in your clothing, you think she is too skinny and that the circles under her eyes are too deep.

She sits at your vanity (and you are suddenly so angry at yourself for owning a _vanity) _and looks at herself in the mirror, frowning.

_I can brush your hair, if you want._

You move over to her and without thinking, you put your hands on her shoulders.

You put your hands on her shoulders and she jerks so violently, and makes such a sound, that you pull away immediately, gasping. _I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm so sorry._ You say, but she has started to shiver, and sound of her chattering teeth is ripping at your heart.

_Are you still cold? Do you want to take another shower?_

She looks at you, her eyes wide, and you don't know what to do. She opens her mouth to say something, and then shuts it again.

_Do you want another sweatshirt?_ She's dressed in one of the only sweatshirts you own, a little short in the arms, but you think you can find one in your father's closet that will make her warmer.

You wait, holding your breath, and after a moment, she nods, and relief floods through you.

_Okay. Come on._

With extreme restraint, you do not take her hand and you can feel her following you down the hall to your parent's room.

She stands in the middle of the room, feet close together, arms around herself, and you look through your father's closet until you find the biggest, softest sweatshirt you can.

You hold it out to her and she takes it, but doesn't put it on, just holds it close to her chest.

_It's alright…He won't mind_.

She looks at you and you offer her a smile.

She pulls the sweatshirt over her head.

.

She's sitting on the edge of your bed, when you decide to touch her again.

You're not sure what brings you to this decision, other than the fact that her eyes are starting to droop and her shoulders are slumped, and you want to get her under your covers before she passes out.

_Under your covers. _That idea makes you shiver.

You put one palm flat against her back, and wait. Her breathing goes fast and panicky, coming in short bursts, but you don't move, and neither does she.

_I'm not going to hurt you_.

She relaxes a little and you put your other hand next to the first, waiting while she goes through the same cycle: flinch, hyperventilate, calm.

You say it again. _I'm not going to hurt you_, and she relaxes a little more.

She's been in your house for four hours and you haven't asked her if she's alright. That is a stupid question, and you already know that the answer would be a lie.

_Do you want to lie down?_

She doesn't answer, but her shoulders sag a little bit more. Your hands rub up to her shoulders and then back down, and you feel a tremor run through her.

You rephrase.

_Lie down._

She does, and you pull gently at the covers around her shoulders. She lifts herself up so that you can pull them down and then back up over her, and her eyes never leave your face.

You're going to let her sleep in your room, but you don't want to crowd her. It takes a lot of willpower not to reach out and touch her face.

_I'll be down the hall. The first door on the left if you need anything, okay?_

You push off the bed and move towards the door.

_Stay._

You whirl around to look at her. Her eyes are closed, and you think you've imagined her speaking. She's already asleep.

But then her lips move again over the word, a little louder.

_Stay._

Spontaneous combustion. You knew the theory, but not the feeling. Not until now.

Grabbing the quilt from the end of the bed, you crawl up beside her, not touching her, not getting under the covers with her. She opens her eyes and watches you wrap up in the quilt, settling yourself next to her.

_Stay._ She says again.

You do.


	4. Chapter 4

trigger warning

* * *

...

You curl up under the bed, pulling your knees to your chest, tucking you head down.

You should have left earlier.

It's so cold you can see your breath. You already feel your feet going numb.

You should have left earlier, but where would you go.

It's pouring.

The sound of boots on the stairs makes you start to shiver, and you pull your knees tighter, shutting your eyes.

_I am no one, no where.  
__I do not exist. _

The footsteps stop in the doorway and when you open your eyes you see the boots. Black. Facing you.

_I am no where._

You try to keep your breathing calm and low, underneath the sound of the rain hitting the roof.

_I do not exist. Go away. _

But the boots step into the room, come towards you. And you can see a knee and a hand and too late you're scrambling towards the other end of the bed. Too late you try to get away and when you feel his hand close around your ankle, too late you are are screaming and crying and shaking your head. _no no please. _You should have left earlier but there was no where you could have gone. you're being dragged the opposite way, on your stomach, and your fingers scratch at the hard wood floor, and you're screaming.

You're screaming.

...

_It's a dream. _her voice seems to be coming from down a long tunnel. _Wake up. _

...

It's pouring, but you stay on the bench, trying to make yourself disappear.

You can't feel your fingers or your toes anymore. You press your lips together, focus on making the hurt smaller and smaller until you can't feel it anymore.

You don't cry, or maybe you do. It is raining too hard to tell.

push the hurt away.

It bubbles back up immediately.

The sound of a car backfiring makes you spin to look...wincing and gasping, but ready to run.

There's no one there.

You hug yourself tighter.

...

_Please wake up. Please. It's just a dream. _

You want to wake up. you want to wake up for her, but you can't.

you're stuck in that apartment, and each blow is white hot against your back falling again and again and again.

You're stuck in the rain and it pours and pours and no one comes to get you at all.

.

It's the way she says your name that finally gives you the strength to drag yourself back to consciousness. Her voice is soft and nearby, and you open your eyes to see her looking back at you. her eyes bright green and watery.

You tense, but you don't have the strength to pull away. She's going to ask you a hundred questions. She's going to ask you why you are shaking, why you are sweating, why you cried out and why your face is wet with tears.

She's going to ask and you are going to lie to her.

Even though you don't want to.

You try to move, and your arms feel like they've been filled with cement.

It's her voice that keeps you calm. That grounds you. Your whole body feels heavy and that terrifies you.

You can't run.

But her voice is by your ear, sweet and calm and tethering you to reality. _You're okay. You're going to be okay. _

You don't feel okay.

But those eyes tell you that you are.

And you believe them.

Your hand is spread against the mattress, fingers splayed. With each breath you draw in, pain radiates out against your ribcage in waves. You try to grip the sheets, to steel yourself for each breath, but you can barely contract your fingers.

You make a sound like a whimper, immediately hating yourself when you feel her shift next to you.

She's scared and out of her depth and she's never going to want to see you again. You shouldn't have followed her.

You shouldn't have come.

You feel her hand slide under yours, her fingers against your palm and down to your wrist, pressing lightly. _I'm sorry,_ she whispers. _I just want to feel your heart._

You shudder.

_You were outside so long. You probably have the beginnings of hypothermia. _Her hand squeezes your wrist gently and then pulls away.

God, you have never wanted anything to come back as much as you want that hand to return.

_It's going to be okay. You can keep sleeping. You should keep sleeping._

You try to thank her, but the noise that comes out of you is a sob, so painful that you see stars. You shut your eyes tight, and the pain slingshots around your skull.

_You're in pain. _Not a question. A statement so full of its own distress that even if you weren't incapacitated that tone would wreck you.

You summon every bit of strength that you have.

_I'm. Fine._

There is silence, in which every pore in your body screams.

Then her voice. Gentle. Firm.

_You don't have to lie to me. _

You start to cry.

You start to cry and you hate yourself and you hate how weak it's making you look and you try to stop but you are just. so. tired.

_There's a pressure point. At the base of your skull. When pressed in the right way, it can relieve pain and tension and...I could try to..._

You don't know if you're nodding, but you hear your voice coming raspy and deep and desperate.

_Yes. Yes. anything. please. _

Her hands slide up into your hair and you know she feels the bump there, above your ear, and you know that her sharp intake of breath is probably pity, and you know you should find it within yourself to get up and get out.

but then her fingers press gently at a spot at the base of your skull, and the relief is so immediate, and so wonderful that you are dragged down into oblivion instantly.

...

You wake up alone.

The first thing you do is test your limbs. The fire and heaviness are gone, leaving you with the dull ache that you recognize as your constant.

You roll over and look at the clock (9:35am) trying to remember what of your dreams were real and what was pain.

Surely you did not cry, and beg to be soothed.

Surely she did not stay up with you all night as you shivered and groaned your way back to coherence.

.

You sit up.

At the end of your bed are your clothes, folded, a note on top, her handwriting recognizable even from a distance.

You lean down and pick it up.

_Here are your clothes. The things from your pockets are on the vanity. If you wake up and read this, but don't feel well or you are still sleepy, please stay in bed. Please stay in bed as long as you like. If you do feel well enough, please come down and have breakfast with me. _

There are three blank lines after this, like they are the physical manifestation of indecision.

_If you want to leave, I'll understand. If you turn right at the bottom of the stairs, you'll be at the front door. _

_The kitchen is down to the left. _

...

Her face lights up when you enter the kitchen. Like. Lights up like a christmas tree. It's written all over your face that she thought you would run.

You offer her a smile.  
You don't run.

You look at each other for a moment, and then she seems to snap out of whatever trance she's in, pointing at the kitchen table.

_come! Eat! I made so much food. Pancakes and Sausages and Bacon...there's orange juice...or milk if you like...or just water. I think we have fruit, if you'd rather._

You laugh and then rub your chest because that hurts, and her delight flickers into concern.

_How are you?_

You open your mouth and then shut it. No one has ever asked it like that before, and you don't know how to answer.

_Are you hungry?_

You are starving. You look at her and open your mouth again, to tell her you have to go. _I'm starving. _

And that's how you end up sitting next to her at the kitchen table, listening while she talks to you about the finger lakes.

You could listen to her talk forever.

.

She doesn't ask you anything. She doesn't tell you that she's worried about you. She doesn't reach for your hands or rush back and forth trying to make arrangements for you.

But breakfast leads to a movie on her couch. And then another.

You know that she is prolonging the day for you. That she's watching your fingers for the moment that the blood is fully circulating again.

But she does not press you.

And you want to stay near her.

...

_You can stay here again. Tonight. _

You're drawing at her vanity and she's reading. She's spoken out of the blue, but her voice doesn't make you jump. You stand up.

Your drawing is done and you want to go before she sees it.

_No._ You hate the way her face falls. The way it gets tight with worry.

_I'll be alright. I'll see you at school tomorrow. _

She gets up too and moves towards you. _You have to promise me something._

Your eyes narrow without your say so, automatically on guard.

She puts her hands up, _please. You have to promise me that you won't stay out in the rain like that anymore._

You open your mouth to deflect, but she steps closer, and her shampoo smells like what you think the ocean might. On a really clear day.

_You have an open invitation here. Anytime. And if you can't get here...text me. I'll come. _She looks at you hard, and you wonder if you've underestimated her. _Do you hear that? don't care what time it is. I'll come for you. _

Fuck. You're going to cry again. You nod. mumble. _thank you. _

_One more thing_. She steps closer. Close enough that she could touch you if she wanted. But she doesn't even reach for you.

And you love her for that.

_If you need someone to talk to. _You tense, but she pushes on, _If you ever feel ready to talk. If you ever just...need someone to listen...I could be that person_.

She looks down at your hands, and you hold them out for her to inspect. You've noticed her doing it covertly and so this time you make it easier. You want her okay before you walk out the door.

She inspects them, glancing at you and spreading her own fingers, to show you want she wants you to do instead of doing it for you.

You spread your fingers...and you put you hand on hers. And it's her turn to jump at the contact.

Her face flushes, and she bites her lip, swallowing a smile.

Oh God.

You want her to be that person.

_Stay warm, please. _She says. like a prayer. and you know the words she doesn't say.

Your fingers contract in hers, and she looks up at you, wide green eyes like the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

_I'll see you tomorrow. _Like a promise.

She smiles. and you turn away.

Before that smile can pull you back.

* * *

**I don't like adding A/Ns to the bottoms of these because I feel like they need to stand alone. But you have to know that I read your comments. each and every one. and I am so awed and so inspired and so grateful. **

**You guys are so nice. and i love each and every comment. even when you take the time to say...eh :/**

**And if you're reading. if you're waiting for more.**

**I'm posting. **

**tc**


	5. Chapter 5

She's there when you get out of your car. Sitting on the low wall in front of the school, and you are suddenly breathing.  
You don't know how long you've been holding your breath, but when you see her, you inhale and it feels like it's been years.

She stands when she sees you, and right away you know that last night was not a good night. Her shoulders are tight with pain and though her eyes focus a little when she sees you, they are still clouded and lost.

She stands and lets you look her over until you are satisfied. And when she looks up at you you have to look away.

Her lip is split.

_Hi._

_Hi. _You hold in the other words. the oh-my-gosh-i'm-so-glad-you're-safe words, as well as the please-just-let-me-touch-you words, and settle for a smile which she returns... and the morning is beautiful.

She waits for you to start walking and then falls into step beside you, and she's almost limping.

She watches you turn to look at her stride, watches you measure the length of one step against the other, the way she favors a hip.

She meets your eyes when you look up at her, and her expression is nothing.

You want to tell her that she is too brave.

You want to tell her that she should have stayed with you and that you would have kept her safe.

You want to tell her that you are so. glad. that she is there.

Instead you kiss your index finger, and point it at her.

You don't know what makes you do this, except that it is the closest you can come to touching her without touching her.

Her eyebrows raise in surprise, and you blush deeply.

But when she leaves you at your locker to go to English, the only class you have apart, she returns the gesture.

You don't know why that makes you feel like crying.

...

In a sweatshirt that's too big and jeans that don't fit, she looks like any other teenager. Too long in the arms and legs. Still growing into herself.

In her gym outfit, she looks sick, and you know you are not the only one who notices. As you traipse onto the court you see her watching the gym teacher's eyes linger on the way her shoulder blades are visible through her shirt.

It's a new game, tennis, and as you set up, you feel a glimmer of hope. You are good at tennis.

Other kids are looking at her too. trading opinions behind their hands. You hear one girl as you set up.

_She's never at lunch._

You look at her.

She is nothing. She is dangerous.

Her gym shorts are going to be too small soon, and you can see the end of a bruise on her thigh, purple and blue against her skin.

_She vomits in the girls restroom._ You hear another girl say. _She's a freak._

Anger makes you hit the little fuzzy ball hard enough for an ace.

You know she hears them too, or if she doesn't, she can tell what they are thinking. But she doesn't say anything, just twirls the racket once before each serve and disposes of each opponent calmly. Daring them to continue to judge her when they can't even score a point against her.

At the end of the period she is undefeated.

You have lost once. To her.

...

She gets a B on her math quiz. You see her looking down at the paper like she can't quite believe it, her eyes scanning her work as though there's a hidden catch somewhere.

Then she looks up at you.

And.

Oh.

And.

That smile. Oh. You can't.

_Look!_ She mouths.

That's all you can do. Is look.

But definitely not at the paper. She doesn't seem to notice though. Or if she does notice you staring at her, at the delicate curve of her neck, or at the way she traces the B with her fingers, whispering it to herself,

She has the decency not to say.

...

She walks with you to your car at the end of the day, and you turn to say good-bye, feeling the dull hollow ache that always comes with leaving her. But she steps closer to you as you open your mouth and you lose your words.

_Do you have to go? _

Your heart has just exploded. You are flying. You look to make sure your feet are still on the ground, but when you look back up you realize that she's nervous. You haven't answered yet.

_No. _quickly! before you wake up!

_No I don't have to go home yet. _ You smile at her, hoping that she can hear the words you don't say.

She looks at you and a gust of wind takes her hair, blowing long dark locks in every direction. She pushes her hair out of her eyes to look at you, and you get the feeling that she is not just pushing her hair out of the way but her fear as well.

You wait, not saying anything, And after a moment, you are rewarded.

_Do you want to see my favorite place?_

Oh. My...

Do you even manage to nod?

.

_Charlie can drive us,_ You say and when she hesitates, you give her your most reassuring smile.

She doesn't return it but she follows you up to the car, watching as your driver jumps out, and opens your door.

You tell him she's coming too, and after you've climbed in, he waits, door still open.

She looks in at you, and you wonder how much of Saturday she recalls.

_Come on,_ You say, and after a moment, she slides in next to you, sitting like she's dirty.

Sitting like she doesn't want to ruin the upholstery.

You sit in silence for a while, not moving, until you realize that she doesn't know what to do. Of course she doesn't.

_Tell Charlie where to go._ You say gently, and she looks at you, bewildered.

_Do you know the address? Just tell him the address and he'll take us there._

She looks up at the driver, and something hard and unreadable seems to pass across her face. You want to ask about it, but it is gone just as quickly. And she says in her deep voice.

_200 Massachusetts Avenue._

The car starts to move.

...

_Hey there, kiddo. Early today._ The guard outside the library smiles at her, _Who's your friend? _You love the almost grin that tugs at her lips as she introduces you and gestures you by him, and you glimpse the sign as you walk by. **Mary Baker Eddy Library.******

_Hang on there, darlin,_ he calls, and she turns. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Snickers, and your heart breaks a little at how she lights up when she sees it.

_I didn't know you were bringing a friend or I woulda gotten you another. _ She reaches for it like it's treasure, and there is something more than kindness in his face as he watches her take it.

_You take care._ He says, and she nods. tucking the bar away.

You wonder if she's eaten since you fed her.

She turns to you, her eyes a little sparkly. _Come on._

_._

_Where are we going?_ You follow her up winding stairs lined with books.

_ I already said, _She answers, but doesn't repeat herself.

You follow her around a corner and then another. And then you gasp.

It's a giant globe of the world. A giant stained glass world, with a pathway through the middle, so that when you walk inside it, you are inside it. Mostly engulfed in the soft blue light of the ocean.

You take a breath but you can't let it out. The ocean is all around you. And the bright reds and greens and yellows of the countries.

You stare up and around and you wish that you had a dozen more eyes.

_This is your favorite place?_

She doesn't answer and you can feel her eyes on you, but you can't stop looking.

You spin, and spin, and spin once more, and when you finally look down, you're dizzy and she's watching you with an expression you can't quite read.

_This is your favorite place?_ You ask again andher_ s_mile flickers, but she doesn't break eye contact.

_Yes. _

The light from the stained glass gives her a soft sort of glow. She's standing under the yellow cast by the United States, and she looks...

_You're beautiful._ It's out of your mouth before you can censor yourself, and her face loses all it's color, sliding from excited to terrified in seconds.

No...shit.

Panic makes your brain shut off.

No no no. Don't ruin this. Don't run. Oh God, don't run.

_I mean. It's beautiful. It's..._ You look away so that she doesn't see the way you are kicking yourself.

When you look back she's still there, still pale, but not so scared anymore, looking up at Europe.

She looks so calm and happy. And now you know why she loves to listen to you talk about places. Mountain ranges and canyons and rivers.

You can see her in your minds eye, returning here day after day, trying to place the things that you've told her about.

The thought makes you want to hold on to her. or at least to hold on to her ideas.

You move over to her, standing close enough to be able to whisper.

_You would love it there...Europe._ You say when she glances down at you_. It's so beautiful. You would love Barcelona, especially. I think. _

You reach out your hand, and she looks down at it, her face unreadable.

You would never touch her without her permission. It seems important to you that you make that known. You try to put some of it into your face when she looks at you.

That even though you are aching with the desire to touch her, almost every second of every day...you won't.

Not unless she says it's okay.

She looks at your outstretched hand, and for a moment you think she's going to decline.

But then she slips her hand into yours, and you smile reassuringly, turnimg back to look at the curve of the stained glass earth. You back up, slowly, until there are only inches between your back and her front.

You can feel her breathing behind you, low and and shallow. Shaking a little.

You curl your hand into a fist, pointer finger out, and then, gently, you curl her hand around yours.

Looking back up at Europe, focusing in on Spain, you raise your hand so that you are both pointing to the spot where Barcelona is. _La Segrada Familia_ _is a cathedral in Barcelona. You would love it. giant steeples, beautiful architecture..._

Jane looks up, and you can feel her mouth move by your forehead. _La Segrada Familia._

_That's right. It means Holy Family. It's a temple actually. Not a cathedral. It was started in 1882, and it's still unfinished. It's got styles from every era. It's amazing. _

She steps closer to you, so that you are touching. so that your back is against her, and you are glad she can't see your face or the way your eyes flutter closed.

_Still unfinished. _she says and you nod.

_How lucky that it is a building and will not die that way. _

You look back at her, speechless.

_But how sad that it's builders are humans and might not ever know it's end. _

You just stare at her. Want is making the edges of your world curl in on themselves, like paper on fire.

You _want_ her.

She tries to take a deep breath and you feel it catch in her chest, feel her tense and then sway with pain and you turn without thinking, your hand moving up to the back of her neck, holding there. Steadying her.

_Easy. _You say. and her eyes are closed. You want to kiss each eye lid. You want to put your hands back in her long dark hair and hold on.

You want to take away her pain.

_Easy._

She opens her eyes and looks at you, and you're under water or out in deepest space. Somewhere breathing is not an option.

She almost smiles. It's just a twitch at the corner of her mouth, but it's everything.

It's everything.

_You are... _You stop yourself abruptly. You do not want to watch her face register terror again. Not because of you.

You hold onto the words even though they fight to get out.

She leans down to you and whispers, and her breath on you neck makes you weak.

Her whisper is hesitant and nervous, but what she says makes you see stars. Makes your hand around the back of her neck contract.  
It feeds you.

_It's okay. _She says.

And there is more than one way to be starving.

_Maura._

_I think...that you are beautiful too. _

* * *

**The mapparium in Boston is real. Is one of my favorite places. You should google the pictures. **

**Your comments are...amazing. I can only dream of living up to them. **


	6. Chapter 6

**strong trigger warning. Note the rating change.**

* * *

Ms. Grow is really pleased with your progress in science. She doesn't _say_ this, but you can tell. The next time you show up at her class room, she looks up from her grading and gives you a radiant smile.

_Hey you. I was getting worried. Find something better to do after school_?

You like Ms. Grow because you're pretty sure she knows exactly what (who) has kept you away.  
You smile and sit down with the book about the solar system, but she clicks her tongue, getting up.

_Don't read that again. I got you something special_. She crosses to the bookshelf and takes down a book, handing it to you.

Your mouth falls open.

**Mountain Ranges of Colorado** so big and heavy, with huge glossy pictures.

You look up at her and she leans over, so that you are face to face on the same level.

_That's for you. To keep._

Your eyes must go wide, because she smiles briefly, but then reaches out and takes your hand, holding tighter when you try to jerk away.

_You're a good kid. _She says. _You're a good, smart kid, okay?_

She waits until you nod before she turns away, and goes back to her desk and her grading.

Another reason you like Ms. Grow is that she doesn't ask you a thousand questions.

And she can tell if you want to be seen or not seen when your eyes are a little wet.

…

It's not until you're on your way out the door, putting the book in your shoulder bag that you realize _who _must have told her about your love for geography.

You bite your lip. Trying not to smile.

…

Every day at lunch you leave school and call your Ma from the payphone on Boylston. You make sure you get there just as the suits start coming down from their tower offices in search of lunch, and if you look sad enough, you can get the four quarters without a lot of trouble.

Usually you have at least 10 minutes before you have to hang up.

_Hi sweetheart. _You close your eyes.

_Hey, Ma._

Usually you don't talk about anything much. You tell her that you got a B on a math test and you hear her clap. You tell her you're top in gym, and she says she knew you would be.

But today you have to ask. You cannot stop yourself.

_When are you coming home, Ma? Or when can I come out there?_

There is silence. You do not ask this question a lot. A couple years ago, when you started making these calls, you would ask every day. Now it makes you feel scooped out like an ice cream container. You cannot bear the answer.

But last night has made you weak.

You do not think you can keep going if you can't put a date on the end of this pain.

You listen to the crackle of static on the other end of the line, your heart beating hopefully in your chest.

You grip the phone so hard your knucles are turning white.

_Ma?_

You hear her suck in a breath, and you picture her, leaning against the kitchen table, twirling the phone cord around her fingers.

_Maybe a little while yet, honey girl. Things are really, really tight. _

She says more. She says a lot more, all in a rush and sad like she's trying to explain and make up and reassure you.

You don't hear any of it. You don't hear anything, not the cars driving by or the sound of people on the sidewalk.

Just a loud rushing sound in your ears. Like the sound you make when you blow grass through your fingers.

_I have to go, Ma._ You don't know how you sound so normal.

_Honey. I miss you too. You have to know I do. But Charles treats you alright, doesn't he? You remember to thank him for everything he's doing for us, don't you? And one more year of high school and you can come out here and get a job. We can be a family again._

You feel cold.

You feel like you've caught on fire and the fire is made of icicles, all pointed in.

_I have to go, Ma._

_I love you. Stay warm. It's getting cold._

You hang up the phone and get 75 cents back. Usually you use the whole dollar, but today you haven't even been on the phone for five minutes.

You feel dead.

No one is coming.

.

You don't go back to school. You walk in the opposite direction

And then you run.

You make it back to your apartment, and it's empty.

He's not there.

Thank god.

You collapse onto your mattress, in your corner and shut your eyes….

And you are nowhere.

…..

…..

You wake up kicking.

You kick and kick and kick and your muscles start to burn, but you don't care.

You've been dreaming about your mother and as you break the surface of consciousness, you can't hear anything but her voice in your head telling you she's not coming.

She's not coming.

But he's there.

Your eyes snap open, and the sky outside the window is inky black.

Fuck. No.

No!

Fuck.

He's got you by the hair and that's why you're kicking. Even waking up, your body knows that it should fight him. You struggle even though you know that no one is coming for you and you're wasting your time, winding him up and making him angrier.

You only hear him. There's only him in the whole world. Telling you how nothing you are.

_You're nothing._ _Lying around like you're the queen. _

Are you screaming? Is that screaming in your head?

_You're nothing_.

You kick out, and your feet connect with something solid.

The wall. It's hard and cement and he's pushing your towards it and you try to use it to back, but he's that much fucking stronger than you and your face hits cement. Strike one. Your vision blurs.

_Get…Off…_

You grunt like an animal.

your knees hit cement. Strike two. You scream. You know it's you now, you recognize your voice, panicked and hoarse.

You are an animal he says so and treats you like one. _Get…off…Get…off…_

_Hoyt. You…fucking…leave me alone._

He laughs.

You need to get out of there. Fuck you for falling asleep like a fucking toddler, no safety net, no cans set over the door to wake you, no nothing.

Fuck fucking fuck you. You idiot.

But he wraps his hand in your hair and jerks down.  
strike three. you're out.

….

You wake up with a gasp, and for a moment you think that you've drooled in your sleep, before you realize that it's red.

And sticky.

You roll over and almost lose consciousness again, coughing, until lights pop behind your eyes and you think you're dying.

Then the pain surges forward like an avalanche and as it hits and peaks you wish momentarily for death.

But hurt is like welcome home. The aching like redemption.  
It means you haven't stopped breathing.

Don't stop breathing.

You're exhausted enough that it seems like that could be an option.

You pull your fingers through your hair, and your middle finger gets stuck on a tangle, and you jerk your own head back by accident.

The sensation is so familiar. So reminiscent of earlier that you collapse back down to the floor.

_No. Don't hurt me._

That's reflex. He's not there. He's not there with you now…is he? No.

No.

_Please._ You cover your face with your hands, talking to no one. Talking to yourself.

_Please._

…..

…..

_Hey. Hey kid, you alright?_

You blink and you're standing on the sidewalk. Well, 'stand' is a generous term. You're leaning against a brick wall outside a bodega, your breath coming hard, vision sliding in and out of focus.

_Hey. You alright? _

You wave this person away with a middle finger, take out your phone and look at it. Watching as two drops of blood, bright red, fall onto the screen.

You go to wipe them away with the sleeve of your shirt, before you realize you're wearing a t-shirt.

Whatever.

You pull up her name with your thumb.

_I'll come for you_.

Did she mean it? Do you dare?

You look up at the lighted sign of the bank, flashing back and forth between the temperature (28) and the time (11:30pm).

You shut your eyes, but when you do you can feel his hand wrapped in your hair.

You look down at your phone. The open message.

What are you supposed to say? Hi I'm bleeding to death on Boylston. Will you please come take me to your home again?

Hi. You're beautiful and I'm nothing. But I need you.

You sigh and blink until the screen is not blurry.

You type.

_Hey._

fifteen seconds tops and your phone is buzzing. Like she's been waiting for you. You flip the top up and look down and you feel yourself make a noise, though you can't tell if it's a moan or a sob or a whimper or that weird small space where they all combine.

She's answered you.

_I'm coming. Tell me where you are. _

…..

You know at once that the hands on your back are her hands. You know without moving. Minutes or hours or days have gone by, you can't be sure. You don't know if it's dark out or if your hands are still over your eyes.

You're curled around yourself like a snake.

_Go away. Please don't hurt me._

The hands rub up to your shoulders and then back down. So gentle.

Someone is saying your name.

Someone is linking her hands with yours and her tone is firm.

_Look at me_.

You open your eyes and there she is. Oh my God there she is in front of you, wrapped in a winter coat and looking at you with those eyes.

You smile at her and tighten your grip on her hand, and she makes a sound that is both laughing and crying and relieved and appalled.

_Hi sweet girl. _

Your mouth moves over the word but you cannot find your voice to say it. It doesn't matter.

She's there.

She gestures behind her, to the man standing a ways back by the curb.

_Charlie is going to lift you._

For a moment you are scared. You think she said Charlie, but maybe she said Charles. You tense and go to pull away from her, but her voice stays low and calm and reassuring.

_I'm not going to let you go, and he's not going to hurt you. He's just going to pick you up._

And she is true to her word, standing as her driver lifts you up into the air, her hand never leaving yours.

You try to look at her, but your head spins and you let it drop against the chest of the man who is carrying you.

You think that if this is a dream

It is the loveliest dream you've ever had.

Her hand on yours and her voice in your ear.

_I'm here. I'm here. _

…..

Some part of you is touching her at all times.

She cleans and bandages your head. Your knees. Your shoulders.

Her hands shake once, and then she breathes, and is steady.

You're in awe of her.

You lean against her.

_My Ma said she's not coming home. _Confessions fall out of you like you're broken. You lean your head on her shoulder while she runs a washcloth over the back of your neck. _What if she doesn't come back for me? Never sends for me._

She puts her lips to your temple. Not a kiss. _Shh. _

She stands with her eyes closed and her hands out, letting you balance on her while you pull a pair of her father's sweatpants up over your hips.

_I'm a monster._ You shudder, and she reaches down for the drawstring,

_You're incredible. Hold onto my shoulders._

You do and she pulls the drawstring tight. _God, you're so skinny._

_I don't exist_._ I am a star that no one can see._

She looks up at you, and her eyes are something more than sad. She looks fierce.

_I see you_. She says vehemently. And then soft, and gentle. _Get in bed._

She follows you under the covers. _Alright? _You nod.

You have never felt anything as soft as her bed before. Besides maybe her hands.

Besides maybe her lips, when they graze yours gently. Just once.

You reach out for her, but pull back, nervous, and she catches your hand and presses it to her heart.

_I was so scared when you didn't come back after lunch. My heart didn't beat right without you._

She presses your hand harder.

_Feel it now. It's finally beating okay again._

She leans back against the pillows and lets you drag your fingers along the ridge of her collarbone, her eyes fluttering shut.

You have not lost contact since she rescued you.

She rescued you.

You never want to lose contact again. You look up into her eyes, and she looks calmly back at you. Waiting.

_I._ You don't know what to say. There are only three words you want to say.

She half smiles, and reaches out to you, her hand going still when you flinch and shut your eyes, waiting.

_My hands don't hurt._

When you open your eyes again, she moves again, reaching out and tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ears.

_Sweet girl. _She looks at you.

_My hands won't hurt you._ _Stay with me._

And when you start to cry, she opens her arms and folds you into them, tucking you gently against her side.

_Stay with me._

You nod against her shoulder and as you drift off to sleep you feel her hands slide into your hair.

And you're safe.

* * *

**your comments. **

**I am not worthy. **

**you are all amazing. **


	7. Chapter 7

She is broken and you are terrified.

She falls asleep against you with a deep breath like she's been waiting forever, and you know that she's broken.

That not only has the light inside of her been crushed, but that there must be at least one bone in her that's actually, physically broken.

No one's ribcage turns black and blue like that for no reason.

She goes heavy against you with sleep, and you let the tears that you've kept at bay all night start to roll down your cheeks.

What if you can't fix this? What if you've found something that you can't do on your own?

You shake your head. Try to focus.

She's alive.

You hold onto that one, undeniable fact. To the relief that had washed over you when you'd spotted her out of the window of your car.

_There! There she is. Charlie. You have to help me. We have to get her._

She is alive and warm and pressed tightly against you, breathing in and out.

.

You watch every breath and hitch and grumble she makes, and when she whimpers in her sleep, you slide your hand into her hair, leaning down to whisper to her.

Say her name. Softly. Tell her she's safe.

That you'd never hurt her.

She doesn't respond, but the line between her brows lessens a fraction of a bit.

Her head is on your shoulder, her face turned towards you, and you use your index finger to trace around the curve of her ear, down her jaw and back up.

Even bruised.

Even broken.

She is exquisite.

She tenses and cries out softly, and you pull her closer as gently as you can, trying to transfer some of your sense of security into her dreams. You press your mouth to her forehead, the skin dry and hot and smooth under your lips.

It's true. You've never felt as secure as you do when she is lying next to you.

_I love you. _You whisper. _I love you. Please be okay. _

It comes without warning, but once you say it, you cannot stop. And you whisper it again and again into her hair; until you feel her breathe one, huge, shaky sigh.

You freeze, waiting for her eyes to open. Waiting for the accusing and disgusted expression.

But her eyes remain closed, and her hand tightens around a handful of your shirt.

She says your name.

You're dying.

….

You're the first to wake up.

You've both shifted in your sleep, and you wake up with your arms around her from behind, your knees in the hollows behind hers.

Your lips pressed against her shoulder.

For a moment, you just lie there, feeling her breathe and marveling at her fingers, still intertwined with yours.

But then you realize that it is Wednesday.

The world does not stop spinning just because one little girl gets lost.

Gently, you sit up, trying not to jostle her, and as you reach onto the bedside table for your phone, she grumbles and rolls over.

Rolls towards you, following you, her fingers curling around air.

She frowns, and reaches again, and for a moment you are too stunned to do anything but watch her reach and get nothing, her face becoming more and more distressed.

You blink.

_I'm here._ You whisper, and link your free hand in hers. And the way her face relaxes when she feels you.

Well.

That's what makes up your mind.

_Hello. This is Constance Isles. I'm calling to let you know that my daughter is sick with the stomach flu._ You pause. _As is Jane Rizzoli, who's staying with us for the time being. I shouldn't expect them this week._

Job done.

You settle back down on the bed, closing your eyes.

….

She follows you into the bathroom, unsteady. Hobbling on bruised knees.

She keeps her head down, and you realize that she's avoiding the mirror.

She doesn't want to see herself.

After fourteen hours, her face is a travesty, dark blue and red and swollen. You kick yourself for not making her put ice on it yesterday. That's first aid 101, you've known that since you were ten.

_Come here. _You gesture to the edge of the tub and then reach out, offering your hand as she teeters. She takes it automatically, without any hesitation, and you can't help your smile.

Even if she needs your help sitting down.

Standing up.

Getting in and out of bed.

You will never get tired of feeling that hand in yours.

You lift her face so that you can look at the cut on her head, but find yourself looking into her eyes.

Your hand cups her cheek for a moment.

You shake yourself. _Alright?_

You show her the cotton and the alcohol wipe and the new band aid. _Alright_?

She nods.

.

You start to doctor her.

She stays very still, and when you smile at her between tasks, she just looks at you. Blank.

You think back to her words last night.

_She's not coming back for me. I will be with Charles forever. _

You frown at her forehead.

_How long have you lived with that man?_

You do not want to know the answer to that question.

You do not think you can stand not knowing the answer.

She looks at the floor for a long time before she answers. And when she does, she doesn't answer your question, but the one you've asked underneath it.

_My Ma doesn't know. She would kill herself trying to get to me if she knew. He probably wouldn't give me back now anyways._

You've never felt anything the way you feel for her. _You're not a thing._ You whisper.

She doesn't hear you.

_She's trying to make money. Enough for all of us. _

Her face shifts through several emotions, finally settling on resignation.

_I just have to be patient._

She says this like a mantra she's heard a thousand times, and you stop what you're doing to look at her.

_You just have to be safe._ You reply, and her eyes snap up to look at you.

_Has he always been like this?_ You try to wrap your mind around daily beatings for years, but your brain refuses to compute it.

You can tell anyone the square root of any number.

You cannot fathom how this child is still breathing.

She looks down at her hands and then back up at you. Defiant, as though she knows what you're thinking.

_I don't want your pity_.

You shrug.

_I know. What about my love? _It slips out.

A natural response.

You flush crimson, furious with yourself, and the rest of your time in the bathroom passes in silence.

When you've finished her last knee you stand up and turn away.

You can feel her eyes on you, studying you.

_Okay._

You spin back around and look at her. She's half smiling.

_What? _You're never sure if she's speaking or if you are having a conversation with yourself.

She holds out her hand. You stare at it until she gives it a little impatient shake.

You help her off the edge of the tub.

_I said okay. _

…

It is world war three going on in your in your heart.

She eats wheat thins straight out of the box, and follows you through the house.

She doesn't ask you why you two aren't going to school.

She uses your computer to look up the Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família in Barcelona and stares at it for almost ten full minutes. The same picture, the size of the computer screen.

She struggles through math homework while you do math, history and science, stopping every once in a while to make her shut her eyes.

_When it starts to drift away like that, close your eyes and try to breathe. You know the difference between those two. I know you do. _

She slides her paper towards you.

_Trace with me_.

You do, and she doesn't drift nearly as much as she has in the past.

_You're getting much, much better._

She tries not to look pleased.

.

She does not talk very much, and when she does you have to lean in to hear her, but your house is alive with her presence.

Too often you are alone, and you are used to it.

Thirteen was the age that you refused to travel anymore.

At fifteen you announced that you no longer needed a Nanny.

Your parents listened to you both times, kissing you. Asking you where the time had gone.

Sometimes you wish they'd _really_ listened to what you were saying….

But this arrangement is better than nothing, and it's definitely better than the endless planes and new faces and feeling that you did not belong anywhere.

Now you call the housekeeper when you need something you can't get for yourself.

Now, you thank the cook and eat dinner in your room.

.

But tonight when Marisol shows up to make dinner you tell her to set the table.

_Dr. and Missus have returned home early?_

You shake your head. You're smiling. You're beaming.

_No. we have company tonight._

When she appears, shy, from around the corner, you introduce her, and Marisol smiles warmly, not mentioning her face or her narrow hips or that three of her fingernails are completely missing.

But as she turns to head back to the living room, Marisol points a spoon at you.

_She stays for a long time, yes?_

You nod and she smiles.

_Good. We'll feed her up._

….

You reach out to her. _Come sit with me. _

She moves towards you and you take her elbow as she lowers herself gently onto the couch.

You flip the TV on, and change to the discovery channel, where a camera is following a family of lions across an open plain.

You focus on the TV for a moment until you realize that the body next to you is tense with discomfort.

_Here. _You think of broken tailbones. _Come here._

You tug on her shoulder, spinning your own body when you feel her give in, so that the two of you are sitting lengthwise on the couch, her back against your front.

You put your hands in her hair.

_Don't pull._

You frown, your fingers avoiding the spot where you know there's a bump. _Never_.

_Once I shaved it all off. So he couldn't use it anymore._

You stay silent.

_He found other things to use_.

You lean forward to kiss her neck before you know what you're doing, and she melts against you at the contact, her breath coming out like a little lamentation.

Like mourning.

_You're beautiful. _

If you say it enough, it might take root. You've seen it happen with other things.

_You're beautiful you're beautiful._

She takes your hand, holding it up in front of her, looking at it. _You can buy a star and name it. _She squeezes each finger gently before sliding her own in between them. It gives you goosebumps. _My Ma bought me one. Right before she left. For my eighth grade graduation. She named it Insieme.*_

You close your eyes.

_Then, last year I read that the stars that we can see down here? They might have burnt out years ago. It's just their light coming down still. Even though they're not there anymore. _

You kiss her again, and then slide out from behind her. At first she looks scared. Like she thinks you're going away. But you sit back down on her other side, cross legged.

You face her. Reach out and pull her close to you. Close enough that she has to put her legs around your waist.

You take her face in both of your hands and pull her closer so that your foreheads are touching.

_You are not going to disappear. _

Your voice doesn't shake.

_I won't let you._

She closes her eyes, and her arms wrap around your back, head sliding down to your shoulder.

_I don't believe you._

You hold her back as tightly as you can without hurting her, and you can feel the vertebrae in her spine. She might disappear. Why _should_ she believe you?

_I know. You don't have to. You just have to hear it. You're going to be okay._

You've made up your mind. It was made up this morning, when you watched her reach for you in her sleep.

_How?_ Her voice comes from your shoulder, followed by one kiss there, sweet and soft.

You sigh, because it's like heaven. You love her.

You would do anything for her.

You will do everything for her.

_I'm going to call my parents. _

* * *

_***meaning: together**_

_**That you feel something in my broken sentences and unfinished clauses.  
That more than 100 decided to come on this journey with me? That you review and review?  
There are not enough words of gratitude in all the languages combined. **_

_**I love you guys**_


	8. Chapter 8

You hide.

It makes you feel like a baby. Like a coward, but you thought you were okay and you're not.

You pull your knees up to your chest, pressing back against the wall of the closet, listening to the click of the door as she pulls it open downstairs.

Her parents have taken a car, a train and three planes home from a place called Guinea Bissau.

Her father had asked her a hundred questions over the phone, and she'd relayed them to you, her green eyes watching your face.

_Does it hurt to breathe?_

Yes. _No._  
_Do you feel faint?_

Yes. _No. _

_Is your vision blurred?_

Yes. You look at her.

_No. _

She turns back to the phone, biting her lip._ Yes. _She says_. To all of those things. _

And they'd started packing right then.

Now you shut your eyes and focus on disappearing. You remind yourself that they did not come back for you, but because she asked them to.

There is a difference.

.

But she finds you without even having to look very hard. She just knows where you are, like there is an invisible line that ties you together.

You hear her say your name. Soft like a question, and then you hear her feet on the carpet.

Coming to where you are curled around yourself behind her dresses.

You try to fight the way your heart starts to race. Try to remind yourself that she is gentle.

But you saw the car pull up.

You know she is not alone.

And no one stays gentle for long.

….

_Come here._

You stand in front of Constance Isles, trying to keep still.

But your hands shake up your arms to your heart. She's going to send you away.

Worse. She's going to take you to the hospital.

Her eyes are blue and pretty, but they pierce you like they could look right through you. Like she's looking _into_ you to see who you really are.

You hope she doesn't find anything real bad.

You hope you are a good person.

Good enough anyway. For her.

_Please don't take me to the hospital._ You try to say other words but these are the ones that come out. Shaky and low, your voice catching.

You think of the last time, and for a moment you are blinded by terror.

You wrap your arms around yourself and clamp your mouth shut.

Just. Stop. Talking.

_Why are you afraid of the hospital? Are you afraid they will hurt you there?_ Her voice is very, very soft. She reaches out and you flinch.

She puts her palms up. Showing you her hands.

_Look._ She says, and folds them in her lap. Keeping them still.

_Tell me why you are afraid._

You don't know how to answer her. She has looked over your face and your hands and arms; you'd lifted her husband's sweatpants to show her the bruises and scabs on your knees. You'd turned on the spot for her, silently. Letting her look over every inch of you.

You stay silent.

It's not that you don't know what to say or that you're afraid of saying the wrong thing, but that you've honestly forgotten what answers are.

You stare at her, and she looks back at you, waiting. Patient.

Something is happening in your stomach and your chest. On the outside you're frozen, but on the inside you are a tornado.

Mostly it is fear.

You are afraid of this woman. She crosses one leg over the other. Reaches up to scratch her head.

You throw up.

….

They bring the Doctor to you.

You didn't know that this was possible, but you hear Constance greet someone at the door, and you turn to look at Maura, sitting next to you, her hand tightly around yours. You still haven't seen her father.

But you've heard his boots in the hall above your head. You know he is here.

She says. _The Doctor is here._

And she says. _I won't leave you._ _Don't be scared._

You wrinkle your nose at her, and are rewarded with a smile.

_I'm not scared. _Petrified. terrified. _I don't get scared._

She knows that you are lying, but it's like a secret that the two of you have just between you.

_Still. _She kisses the side of your head quickly. _I don't want to leave you._

You don't want that either.

.

Undernourished and a little broken.

That is your diagnosis.

A concussion. Some fractured ribs. A lot of bruises.

You feel exhausted.

The Doctor is a woman, who smiles at you and who does not make you take your tank top off. She asks if you want Maura to stay and then she says nothing else when you nod.

She waits patiently between the time when she presses the stethoscope to your chest and the time when you stop shaking.

She doesn't make you leave when she speaks to Constance.  
_She'd have to get x-rays to confirm if her ribs are cracked or truly broken. But there's not much we can do besides wrapping them like that. Putting some heat on them._

You look at Constance.

She looks back at you.

_I think we can manage here then._

Sometimes, relief feels like a blanket.

….

You sit in the kitchen with Marisol, watching her cook dinner. She is cutting up something orangey and soft looking that you have never seen before.

You wonder what it tastes like.

You glance up from the fruit to her face to see that she's smiling at you and you look away quickly, blushing.

But she holds a piece out for you, and after a moment you take it.

It tastes like swimming in the springtime.

You look up at her, and she laughs at you. Your eyes must be huge.

_It's a kumquat._ _You've never had?_

You shake your head and she clucks, handing you another piece.  
You do not hesitate this time.

She watches you chewing. Waits until you are done. hands you more.

You reach out, but stop, suspicious.

She shakes it at you, clucking again. _Go on. No malice here. No catch._

She squints at you while you chew, like she needs glasses.

She points at you. Her fingers are a little crooked. _Whatever you want to eat. You tell Marisol. _

She points at herself. _She cook it for you. Yes?_

This does not seem like the type of thing that anyone could say no to.

….

Constance shows you the guest room, which she calls your room.

She hands you a new pair of sweatpants and a shirt and a towel, and points at a door that she says is a bathroom that is just for you. She says you will get more things tomorrow, but you don't know what that means.

She sits down on the end of the bed. Shows you her hands, and then folds them in her lap.

_Where is your mother?_

You look down at your own hands. At the brand new band aids over your missing nails.

_Philadelphia_._ She got a transfer at her job_.

She looks at you for a moment, and you can see all the questions she wants to ask. You try to look tough and indifferent, but you don't think you succeed because her face softens.

_My daughter says the man you're staying with did this to you. Is that true?_

You want to be honest with this woman and her fearsome blue eyes.

You manage half of a nod.

_How do you know him?_

You frown at the carpet. You don't like to talk about Charles. When you do it's like he's in the room. It's like his hands are at your throat.

_He is my Ma's friend._

Constance makes a noise in her throat like gravel. Dissatisfied.

_He would not be her friend any longer. If she knew. _

You look at her and she smiles even though her eyes stay sad.

Apologize you idiot. _I'm sorry._

She looks surprised. _For what, child?_

You spread out your hands, like you want to say _for me _but nothing comes out. She watches you struggle with your answer for several seconds, and then puts her hands up.

_You have been very. very brave._

You feel a kernel of anger pop in your chest. _I don't need you to feel sorry for me._

Instant regret.

Silence.

Your knees get weak.

_Jane._ From her, your name could be strong. From her, your name could fight back. You look up.

_I do not pretend to know what you need. _

Her eyes linger on your face, sweep down your frame, saying something completely different.

_But you are welcome here. As long as you like._

She shows you her palms, and then stands, gesturing to the bed, and you get in stiffly. Keeping your eyes on her.

She looks at you for a moment longer, and then reaches out and flips the light switch.

_Sweet dreams._ She whispers.

You wonder what those are.

…..

The night is very, very black and this new bed is very, very big.

The second time you wake with a whimper, you make up your mind to go see her.

It will be worth it.

Even if she turns you away.

.

She sits up the moment you push open the door, smiling. _I thought you would never come._

She curls a finger at you.

You obey.

When you are in bed. When you are under the covers, she slides her arms around you and puts her head gently against your chest.

_Alright?_

You nod, even though alright is an understatement.

_Mother says we will go out tomorrow. Get you some things. _She pauses, and you feel a wave of nerves rush through her. _My father might come too. Just to make sure we're okay._

What she means is _to make sure we are safe._

It occurs to you that perhaps she's told her father to stay away from you. That you are scared of him even without knowing him. It occurs to you that he has obeyed.

You're glad it's dark, because your eyes are a little watery.

You take her hand, pull it close to your face, tracing her fingers in the dark. Her hands are small and delicate and for a moment, you wonder what those fingers would feel like against your skin.

What it would feel like to have skin that she would want to touch. Not bruised and rough and ugly, but smooth, like hers.

Your hand tightens around hers involuntarily, and then you pull away with a surge of shame so intense that you can feel in your bones. You almost forgot that she's beautiful. You almost forgot that you're nothing.

You feel her catch a breath, and then let it out.

Her exhale is your name. lovely and easy.

Like she's been saying it forever.

Her arm snakes around your waist again, and gently. gently, she fits her knees into the hollows behind yours.

_Hey._

You shake your head

_Hey. It's alright. _

_When will you stop?_ It's the most you can get out, and you feel her tighten momentarily around you as she understands the question.

Feel her anger like she has spoken it out loud.

_I won't. _Low and ferocious. Right by your ear.

You don't have to say out loud you don't believe her and she doesn't have to say that's it's alright, she'll keep trying.

You have that conversation silently, in the air above your heads, as her hand slides back into yours.

…

_Tell me_. She presses her head to your shoulder as you jerk awake, crying out. _Tell me._

You wipe at your eyes, the dream already fading. The night slipping back into focus.

Her hand is in your hair.

_Tell me._

You can't. You don't know what to say. You push closer to her, almost hating yourself as you do.

_I can't hope for this. It makes it worse. _

Nothing you say is what you want to say.

She hears everything you mean anyhow.

She puts her lips against yours. _When you're lost in your dreams? Do you know it's not real? Do you know that it's just a dream and your safe here? With me?_

She kisses you. Just barely. You close your eyes.

You listen.

_That's not your reality anymore. Now it's just a nightmare. Can you get away from it?_

_Can I give you something new to hold onto? When you think that all you are is hurt? _

She kisses you again. A little harder.  
Nothing will ever be the same.

_Hold. Onto. me._

* * *

**_my favorite thing is when what you ask for. Is what I already have planned.  
_**_**God damnit your comments make me cry.  
It's just ugly tears and gratitude over here. 24/7**_


	9. Chapter 9

What you want to say is that you hate Angela Rizzoli.

You don't even know her. And you hate her.

What you want to do is grab the phone out of her hands and yell into the receiver until you lose your voice.

What you do instead is sit next to her and rub her back while she listens to her mother apologize over and over again. Feeding her excuses.

_And of course it's alright if you stay with your friend._

You rest your head on her shoulder, feeling her sigh.

You wish you could do more.

.

_It's not just me she has to think about._ You watch her face as she tries to reassure herself. Watch how carefully she shuts the hurt down.

_My brothers are still just babies. _

What you do not say is that you think there must be something more keeping her mother away.

What you do not say is that you're going to find out what it is.

_You were down there last Christmas?_

She starts to nod and then looks startled. _Two Christmases ago._

You squeeze her hand. Smile at her. _Hungry?_

But on the inside. You hate.

.

Your father is at the breakfast table with your mother when you round the corner and immediately she goes still beside you.

You stop and look at her, and she's looking at the floor.

_Hey, sweet girl. _She almost lifts her eyes to you. _He's just my dad._

You rub her arm, _There's pancakes with strawberries._ It's bribery and you don't care.

She looks up at you, and there's such a struggle going on in her eyes that for a second it's hard to breathe.

With your parent's eyes on you, you push down on her shoulder, raising yourself on tiptoes to kiss the side of her mouth. _I won't let anything happen to you. _She meets your eyes again. _Trust me._

And she does, following you to the table and sliding into a seat.

You don't remember if you've ever been this happy.

…..

You mother asks to see you without her, and you leave her at the table, still eating. One squeeze to her shoulder.

You sit on the couch and Constance takes your hand.

For a moment you are silent and she's just playing with your fingers and you're just reveling in the feeling of having her home. With you.

_Tell me. _She says. And you tell her everything.

You tell her about dyscalculia and dodge ball. You tell her about Ms. Grow assigning her to be your partner. You tell her about the gym teacher seeing how skinny she was and not saying anything.

You tell her all of it, and it feels wonderful to have someone to talk to.

You lean against her and you talk and talk, telling her things you don't even remember thinking.

About rescuing her from the rain.

About staying up with her to make sure her body temperature came back up.

_She was so cold, and when she looked at me, I could tell she wasn't seeing me. Not really._

You tell her about finding her on the street.

About how at first, you were afraid to touch her.

About how at first, you thought she was dead.

_And. I knew I had to call you. _

Your mother squeezes your shoulder.

_I am very proud of you._

You look up into her face. Constance. Your mother.

She has come home simply because you asked.

_Her mother knows what's going on._ You know this but you don't understand it. It makes you feel like breaking something delicate. _She knows. And she won't come. _

Your mother looks sad. _Yes._ _I think she must. On some level_.

How can you hate someone you've never even seen?

_Thank you. _You hug the arm that's closest to you. _For coming home. _

She looks at you like you might be a stranger. You've never been one for touching.

But being near Jane is making you affectionate.

You get nervous waiting for her to speak. _Mother?_ She gives you a squeeze.

_You happened without me._

Her eyes have tears in them. _You grew up. I should have been here._

All you thought you'd ever want to hear is being said to you now.

You find you've already forgiven.

_You're here now. _

You would both say more. There is much, much more to say, but your father appears in the doorway.

_Come see this. Now. _

…...

He moves back to the dining room table slowly, and she sits frozen, eyes on her hands.

In your absence the plates have been pushed aside and a chess board set up.

_I thought I would teach her,_ He says. Her eyes snap up to him.

He shows her his hands, and then sits back down. _My move?_

She nods, eyes back on the board.

He moves. The rook.

She takes it on her next move, with her queen.

When you look at the chess board, you realize that she's winning…

That she's _going_ to win.

You've never seen anyone beat your father at chess.

You and your mother watch. Silent.

They trade turns quickly.

No one speaks.

One move of her knight and your eyes widen because it's checkmate. Your father leans back in his chair, surprised and delighted and grinning from ear to ear.

She looks up at you, eyes wide, then chances a glance at him.

He laughs. She winces. _I have been felled. _He beckons to you and you go immediately.

Too big to sit on his lap.

Too happy to care.

_But you must say it, _He says to her gently. _Or it is not official._

She watches him squeeze you. Kiss your cheek.

She watches you giggle, brow furrowed like she's watching a foreign film without the subtitles.

_Go ahead. _You say. Nodding.

She looks down at her hands, and you move as if to go to her.

But then she half smiles. _Checkmate_.

Barely a whisper, but your father clutches his chest and slumps back in his seat, head lolling, feigning death.

And you burst into laughter, and your mother chuckles too.

And when you look over at her. She's looking at you with wide, fascinated eyes.

But she's smiling too.

...

Charlie drives her to her apartment and back mid morning to collect her valuables.

Your father wants to go with her.

But she squares her shoulders and shakes her head vigorously until he gives in.

Your mother makes her promise to text you when she's leaving, and she watches her down the sidewalk to the car.

She looks at your father. _I don't know, Richard._

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you realize that you have made a noise like a whimper.

It hurts when she's out of your sight.

_Twenty five minutes. _He says, and you look up. _Twenty five minutes and then I'll call the police._

_. _

But she returns unscathed.

Physically.

she looks a little haunted and a little relieved. Like she was afraid that your house was a dream.

The things she collects from the apartment are:

A picture of her mother and brothers.

A big book on Colorado Mountain Ranges.

A National Geographic with a picture of the milky way.

One spiral notebook.

_Where are your school books?_

She looks at you. _I use the school ones. _

The things you take for granted would fill a thousand spiral notebooks.

_Let's put this stuff in your room. Then we can go shopping. _

She looks confused, and then nervous.

But she stretches out her hand. Slowly.

And you take it.

_…._

_When did you fall in love with her?_

Your mother was never one for small talk.

She's come up behind you in the hall, and you both stand. looking in at her.

You blush, but you don't deny it.

She is putting away new clothes in her room, taking each shirt and pair of pants out of their shopping bags and folding them carefully into the bureau by the bed.

She's completely absorbed, and she looks at each piece of clothing like she's never seen it.

Like she didn't just pick it out at the store two hours ago.

You watch her pick up a new pair of shoes and look at them.

She bites her lip, trying not to cry, and you take one involuntary step forward. Forgetting your mother is next to you.

But Contstance kisses the side of your head and nods. _Go. We can talk about it later._ She turns.

_Take care of her. _

_. _

_Hey, sweet girl. _You try to keep your voice light, even though watching her eyes fill with tears is like cutting off one of your fingers.

she doesn't look up. _Blue is my favorite color. _

You look at the shoes. _Good thing that's what color those are. _

She looks at you.

_Why are you doing this? Why are they doing this?_

You pick up one of her shirts and fold it.

_Because you deserve it. _

You look up smiling, but her eyes are fiery with anger. _Don't lie to me. _

It takes everything inside of you to stay calm.

_Okay._

You hand her a shirt. _Because you deserve it._

You keep folding, and after a second, she starts again. And when you are done, you hold out your hand.

_Ice cream._

She hesitates. Thinking, and you wish you could live inside her head.

She slips her fingers in between yours.

_Chocolate. _

...

She comes to your room again. Much faster this time. And as she slips in next to you you put your arms around her immediately.

Too much of the day has passed without you touching her.

You need her like.

You need her like...

There is no way to end that sentence. You just need her. Always.

_I need you_. You don't seem to have a filter when she's close to you.

You feel her tense and then relax. Breathing deeply.

_Okay._

You kiss her shoulder, feeling the blood start to pound in your ears. _Okay?_

Her hand curls into a fist at her side and you run your hand down to loosen it. _Okay? _

She looks up at you, and there's something in her eyes that you can't read. You wait, watching her search your face.

_Okay. _

You kiss her. your hands find the small of her back and you pull her closer.

Your head is buzzing. You are so full of her. There is nothing else.

You love her.

Oh. God. You love her so much.

But she cries out and you let her go immediately. Breathing hard. Apologizing.  
Angry with yourself.

But she follows you, reaching out. _No, No. I can be better. _

You look at her, not understanding. _What?_ You're flooded with arousal. Everything is hazy.

_I'll be quieter. I can be better…look...Please. _

She's desperate and you don't understand why. Something feels wrong.

_I hurt you. _You trace her jaw. _I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to._

_I don't care. _Her hands shake. _Don't go. You can love me as hard as you want. I-I dont care. I-_

You recoil. Horrified. _No! _You can't think of anything but that word.

It reverberates inside your head.

_No. God...No. _

Her eyes are out of focus.

You don't know what you've done.

You don't know how you've gotten to this place.

_Please. _Her voice is loud and hoarse. _Please. Don't. Don't go._

You're not touching her, you haven't even moved, but she pushes herself backwards, her movements full of contradiction. _Don't go. _

She falls out of bed with another yelp of pain.

You start to cry.

.

The door flies open and your parents are silhouetted there, against the light of the hall.

_What is going on?_

She's crying and shaking and pointing at you, her words coming fast and running together.

Each word seems ripped from her.

Like it physically hurts her.

It's tearing you apart.

But when you try to move towards her, she cries harder. her words come faster.

_I don't understand what you want I thought I was doing the right thing  
__and I thought you loved me you don't you don't not really if you if you...if you loved me then you wouldn't care if it hurt me.  
You wouldn't care you would chain me if you needed to, you could chain me if you needed to you would beat me and leave me  
love me and and and you would leave .me. God. Leave me...love me...alone...DON'T. _

She grabs at her head.

And you're crying and yelling _no no no_ because how was everything so beautiful and now it is this.  
Something is breaking in you. You feel like breaking.

Your father steps forward without speaking and in one swift movement he has picked her up in his arms like she's nothing. Like he used to do with you when you were seven. Cradling her.

_NO!_

You both cry out, but she doesn't fight. She's too tired.

She whimpers and he pulls her to his chest.

You're crying so hard that everything is blurry, and you lunge after them as he turns away.

But your mother holds you back.

Stronger than you would have thought.

_It's alright, darling. It's alright. Let them go. She's alright. _

You don't have a choice. You're sobbing too hard to follow. You collapse next to your mother, and she strokes your hair. shushing you soothingly.

She puts you back in bed. You don't let go of her. She gets in with you.

_Momma. _

She kisses your head again, and starts to hum.

You are often alone. And you are used to it, but at this moment you cannot understand how you have gotten by without your mother there. To sing you to sleep.

somewhere between breaths.  
somewhere between bars and her hands against your forehead.

You close your eyes. And drift away.

* * *

**you have to trust me.  
****I know it hurts. but three years is a long time to think that nobody loves you. To have ****_evidence_**** that you are a thing.  
You have to trust me, guys. They're babies.  
They've been hurt.  
but they'll find each other.**


	10. Chapter 10

You wake up in the guest room by yourself.

For a moment you don't know where you are or how you got there.

Bits and pieces of last night flash across the backs of your eye lids when you blink. Had you shouted at her? To leave you?

Her father had come.

Had he picked you up? Had he stayed with you until you slept?

You look around the room, but he is not there. You feel at yourself but you don't feel worse than you did yesterday. You might even feel better. Your head doesn't pound nearly as hard as you remember, and your stomach isn't rolling over on itself, begging for food.

You sit with this feeling for a couple minutes. Trying to work it out.

You could eat. You would, if someone offered.

But you are not starving.

It hits you so hard that you almost fall back against the pillows. It's the reason you feel better. It's the piece of hurt that is missing. That ravenous clawing ache of hunger.

It is gone.

You could almost laugh if you weren't so terrified.

If half of what you remember from last night is true than this dream is over. There is no way they will let you stay here after...

There is a knock on the door, and you pull your knees up to your chest.

You don't say anything.

The knock comes again and you hug yourself, staring at it.

On the other side of the door, someone says your name.

_May I come in?_

You nod. Roll your eyes at yourself. _Yes._ It is not your house. You do not understand why the voice has asked.

Constance stands in the door way looking at you. Smiling.

_How are you? _

You blink at her. _I'm fine. _

You wait for her to tell you that she needs you to leave. That you are no longer welcome.

You brace yourself, because it is going to hurt like a physical blow.

_Would you like to go out with me today?_

You flinch before you've heard the words properly, and then you jump again because you have heard them. You look at her, trying to understand the question.

She frowns a little, looking at you.

_I'm fine._ You say, because you're not sure what the right answer is. _I can just get my things and-_

But she moves forward and you fall silent.

You look at each other until you have to look away. Not because you are scared but because whenever you look at her, you feel like she can read you. You feel like she is listening to your thoughts...and you're not sure you like it.

You're not sure you don't.

_I think you'll like what I have planned. _She says quietly. _Will you meet me in the kitchen?_

You nod, looking down at your hands.

She turns to leave, to let you get dressed.  
_I'm sorry._ You say it fast like pulling off a bandaid. _About last night. I'm sorry._

There is silence, and you think you have said it too late, that she is already gone, but when you look up she is looking at you.

_I know you are, little girl. Even though you should not be._ Her hand moves. like she would like to reach out to you. Instead, she puts her it in the pocket of her trousers.  
_Come on down when you're dressed and ready. Take your time._

And she is gone. Shutting the door softly behind her.

.

In the bathroom you brush your teeth and pull your hair back, taking a deep breath.

You have not looked in the mirror since you got here.

No one here has said anything about what it looks like. Not even the doctor when she'd pressed on your cheekbones and forehead, feeling for cracks.

She'd asked you one thing. _Did you hit metal, or concrete. _And when you had answered she'd nodded once.

_Lucky girl. I don't feel any breaks._

Lucky.

Lucky girl.

You look up into the mirror.

Dark brown hair. Brown eyes. Dark circles, chapped lips. You see the parts that make up your face like you are puzzle that someone got bored with.

The bruising spreads from your chin up through your hairline, fading but still present.

You scowl, and your face changes.

It goes dark and brooding and angular. That's the way Charles likes it the best.

You swallow, suddenly afraid. As though thinking his name will conjure him up out of nowhere.

_You're beautiful and broken and wicked, you know. That's why she really gave you to me. Because only I know how to love you._

_I do love you._

You grip the edge of the sink hard and try force him from your mind.

Nothing you put on today will have come from him.

Today you will not owe him anything.

The mirror catches you almost smiling.

...

Everything you are wearing is new, to your socks and your underwear and your shoes and the hair tie you are using in you hair.

If you avoid reflective surfaces you can almost imagine yourself as someone new, too.

Someone who belongs here.

The kitchen is empty except for Constance, who is reading and drinking a glass of orange juice.

_Just us._ She says. _Maura's going to spend the day with her father. _

You might be made of fear. There is no way to be sure.

Constance can read your mind.

_Don't be afraid. Get something to eat._ She points at the cabinets and you stare.

You've never fed yourself here.

You don't know how much is too much. For a moment you stand looking at her. waiting to see if she will give you more direction.

She looks up and smiles.

_Take your time. Eat whatever you like._

You pour yourself juice and stop to look up at her when the glass is half full.

She's not looking at you so you pour a little more.

She turns the page of her magazine.

You find bagels in one of the cabinets and take one, edging along towards the fridge.

Constance is not paying you any attention at all.

You eat half the bagel like she might take it away, but slow down when it becomes clear that she is too absorbed in her magazine to notice.

You eat another.  
And six strawberries.

And then. amazingly. miraculously.

You are completely full.

_Ready?_

Has she been watching you this whole time? You nod, waiting for her to tell you to only eat one bagel next time.

_Good. _She takes her coat from the back of the chair and moves to get yours out of the closet.

_Let's go._

...

You have never seen a place as beautiful as Blick Art Supply. She smiles at you when you stop dead in the door, just looking.

_Maura tells me you like to draw.  
_All you can do is nod like an idiot.

_We'll get you some things. Just to begin_.

It takes you a moment to process these words through the sensory overload of the store but when you do, you shake your head hard.

_No._

She looks down at you as one of the sales person approaches. _No?_

You look at your feet.

How do you explain to her what you are feeling? You can barely explain it to yourself.

Constance tells the sales woman that you need a moment, and then turns to look at you. _Maura says that you have trouble with numbers. A little bit of trouble with words?_

You nod mutely. She considers you.

_I think we can make that better. _She shows you a thin delicate hand before placing it on your shoulder. You force yourself not to flinch. _I think that expression, and time, and food, and art. _You look up at her and she smiles. _Might make that better._

You hold yourself very still until you're sure you're not going to cry.

You want a set of colored pencils more than you want your legs.

You shake your head.

_Why, Jane?_ From her, your name could get As.

You take a deep breath. Try to think of what you want to say.

_When we walked from the car to here, I wasn't cold.  
_Damnit. You're going to have to try again. You glance up and she looks back at you, patient as ever.

_Sometimes. Most times. I have to make sure I go fast so that I don't get too cold. Especially when it starts to get to be winter. I have to...go fast._

This is not coming out right. But she continues to wait.

_I can't. Enjoy things right. Because cold is like a raven. And it can see me wherever I go. And follow me there. No matter what. That's what it was like. _

You breathe.

_Before I had this coat._

You look up in time to see understanding creep across her features. You feel the beginnings of hope.

She understands you.

She has given you more than a new coat and new shoes and socks. More than food and a bed that has a blanket on it.

You could repay her for the things.

You cannot repay her for the feeling of staying warm between the car and the store.

It does not have a price.

You couldn't repay her for the feeling of a pencil on a clean piece of paper.

It is priceless.

She doesn't show you her hand this time. Just puts it against the cheek that is not bruised. You flinch but she doesn't seem to mind. Just waits until you calm down a little.

When you look up at her, she is contemplating you silently.

_Do you have any idea the kind of child you are? _She says this like she knows that you don't.

She says this like she knows the answer.

_No. _You say, before you realize that she might not have wanted an answer. But you desperately want her to tell you.

You desperately want to believe what she says.

her hand moves to your shoulder and she squeezes. She looks up towards where the sales associate is hovering in the corner and waves her over.

You wonder if they saw the bentley that dropped you off.

_This young lady is a rather talented artist. She seems mostly interested in your colored pencils...but I wonder if you couldn't give her a run down of acrylics as well. _

She watches the sales woman nod and gesture, then turns to you.

_You don't have to pick anything out. Just listen to what the woman has to say, alright?_

You nod and turn to follow the woman as she starts down an aisle. She explains everything to you, the density of the pencils what that means for drawing, what kind of effects to expect from what brushes and on and on.

You listen to it all.

You love it all.

You try to memorize each word that she says about shading. You have a pencil at home. You are going to try.

.

You're not sure when Constance disappears from your side. But when you appear back at the front, she is standing at the register in front of an assortment of things.

Your favorite items from each aisle.

You feel her eyes on your face as you look at each thing.

You feel equal happy and despair.

_I want something in return for this._

You feel equal relief and fear.  
You look up at her, working to look completely indifferent. At least she is speaking a language that you understand.

_I want you to try each one. Even the pastels, that I saw you turn your nose up. _You gape_. And I want you to come back and tell me which you like the most. And why._

You look down at your hands, and one tear really does get free now.

You'd been wrong wrong. About her.

_Alright?_

You can only manage half a nod.

She smiles at you. Gentle.

_Alright._

_..._

The car ride home is silent at first. You are all one feeling of terror.

You have not seen Maura all day.

Constance is watching you. waiting. And when you can't take not knowing the answer any more you look up at her.

_Does she hate me?_

Constance shakes her head.

_She was afraid that she hurt you. She thinks you hate her._

_I love her._

If you could fall down dead right there in the backseat you would do it. When you are full and warm it is harder to stay on your guard.

But Constance smiles.

_I know you do. _

Silence.

Apologize, stupid. _I am sorry. About last night._

Constance looks at you. Something more than concern.

_It is alright to need time. _She says simply. _It is okay to give yourself time. _

You frown. Thinking of losing her.

_Hey. _Constance can read minds. _You have people on your side here. _

You wonder what that means.

She tells you.

_You have people who will fight for you, when you can't. And when you are ready to fight for yourself, we will stand next to you. support you. _

You look out the window so you don't have to look into such deep blue eyes. _It is alright, Jane. _

From her, your name could fight back.

_You just have to tell her what you want. _

...

You come in through the kitchen where Marisol is cooking.

_Ah. You look like different girl than the one who eats all the cookies her first time here._

You blush. Go to sit on the stool next to her, but she shoos you towards the living room.

_There's a girl in there. Talks about you non stop all day. How pretty your eyes. How funny. How talented. _

Marisol rolls her eyes like this has been a great burden.

Coming from her, it doesn't feel painful. You try out a laugh.

Your chest doesn't hurt.

_I finally get her to shush with some Tapinade. _

You look at her blankly and she heaves a sigh.

_Yeah. I know. You never had. You go in and take it from her. She'll be happy to see you AND to feed you of course. _

You move towards the living room door and peer in.

There she is. Sitting on the couch. Plate in her lap. The TV is on, but you can tell she's not watching it.

You can tell. That she's waiting for you.

You look over your shoulder at Marisol, who flicks her hands at you encouragingly.

_Go, small hungry. Go! _

You look back at her as she sighs, tucking a piece of golden hair behind her ears.

You love her.

You take a big breath.

And enter the living room.

* * *

**I am all one feeling of awe for you guys. I can't. I don't. You make me feel like.  
seriously. **

**I hope you all understand what your reviews do for me on a daily basis.  
How amazing you are. I continue to be speechless...  
Someday I'll make up a word for the feeling. **

**crazy love. **

**tc**


	11. Chapter 11

You wake up missing her.

You wake up like yesterday was dodge ball. Before you knew her.

You wake up, and immediately you wish that you could fall back into sleep where she's happy and laughing at you.

There's a knock on your door, and you sit up hopefully, even though you know she doesn't knock.

Your father comes. Sits on the edge of your bed.  
You pull your knees up to your chest and look at him as he sits down on the end of your bed.

You wait, but he doesn't say anything. Just sits. Looking at nothing.

_Is she alright?_ His silence makes your stomach hurt.

He looks at you hard for a moment. _Mother took her out for a little while. _

You tense and he reaches out to pat your knee.

_They'll be back, sweetheart._

You frown, _She doesn't like crowds._

_Do you know what I always admired about you?_ He speaks as though he hasn't heard you. When you jerk your head around to look at him, he chuckles.

You never knew he thought much about you, let alone admired you for anything.

_You've always been able to dissect information. To figure out what is best in what situation. And you go after it._

You look at him.

_Your mother and I are...In awe of how you've managed this. You have been older than your years. We're so proud of you. _

And your throwing back the covers and crawling down the bed to hug him.

_I messed up last night. Does she hate me now? I just...She looked so scared. I felt so..._  
His arms around you are big and warm and reassuring.

_It's okay. It's okay to feel lost, _he says into your hair._ It's okay to not know what to do for her. _

You take a deep breath.

_I love her so much. I feel happy just. being near her._

He nods. _Then be near her. _

_But give her the space to come into herself. _

And it comes to you.

You sit up.

_Daddy. I need you to help me with something. _

...

You hear her come in through the kitchen. You hear her talking to Marisol, and you turn on the TV, trying to convince yourself that you don't care if she comes in or not.

But You do. And she does. Walking over to the couch and sitting down next to you quickly like she is afraid she might lose her nerve.

You study her out of the corner of her eye.

She is still skinny and there are still deep circles under her brown eyes, but she sits up a little straighter.

She looks more alert.

She turns to you and you blush. But she's looking at the plate in your lap.

_Marisol said I should take that from you_.

You gape at her, and she looks up with half a smile.

_She says that's your second batch. You should share._

You are a genius. You do college level statistics.

You taught yourself to read at three.

When Jane Rizzoli jokes with you...

You forget your own name.

.

For a while you just sit next to each other, watching the TV like either of you knows what's going on.

You can feel her start and stop a sentence several times, but you stay still, not pressing.

And finally.

_Sometimes. When I look at you, I think: she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. _

You turn and look at her, eyes wide. She's studying her hands.

_Sometimes I think: I just need her. I want her to hold me and talk to me forever. _

Her voice is quiet. Raspy like it normally is, but it doesn't shake. And she speaks like she's thought about this all day.

Like she's thought about you all day.

She looks up at you and you nod, trying to encourage her.

_Most times though. When we're together. I think: it's going to make me so sad when she hurts me. _

The sound you make is a hiccup of a gasp.

There are tears in your eyes immediately.

She looks stricken.

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know how to turn it off. I don't want to think like that. I want to be better. I want to be good. For you. _

You shake your head even though there are no words to back it up.

You don't know what to say.

You know there's nothing you can say.

_I. _She starts. Tries again. shakes her head.

You stand up, but you don't reach out for her. You wait until she looks up at your before smiling.

_I want to show you something._

...

You push the door to your bedroom open.

She gasps.

Where there used to be a king size bed, there are now two double beds. You and your father worked through the morning and afternoon. Setting this up.

One bed pushed up against each wall, your bureau in the middle.

You study her face. looking for something more than shock.

_I thought. If you got scared you could come in here like usual...except. You wouldn't have to sleep in my bed...if you didn't want. Of course you would always be welcome to...I mean. _

Her wide eyes make you ramble on and on.

She turns to look at you. _You did this for me?_

You nod. _I love you. _

You've never stated it so boldly before. So deliberately.

_I love you. And you are safe with me. _

You blush as she gapes, looking between you and the beds.

_You are safe with me. I want you to feel it._

You wait...still nothing. You feel a little panicky.

_Your room is still your room. Of course...I just thought..._

But she smiles.

God.

She smiles and you couldn't think of one more word if your life depended on it.

Especially when she takes your hand.

_Thank you. _

You would do anything for her.

_Of course. You are safe here. _

She looks at you, and for a moment you think she isn't going to ask the question that's clearly dying to get out.

But then._ Can you say that again?_

You take a moment to catch up, but when you do...

_You're safe here. With me. You're safe. _

And she smiles and squeezes your hand.

You watch her walk away from you, turning at her door. Shutting it silently.

You stand a little while longer, watching the place where she disappeared.

you lips still moving over the word.

_Safe. _

...

On your back in your new bed late at night, you listen to the silence.

You have school tomorrow and you should be sleeping, but you can't get comfortable.

You drift off. reach for her. start awake to find the bed empty.

She's in your veins like a drug.

This is your withdrawal.

You close your eyes and start to name all of the constellations you know.

She has you seeing stars.

.

You must fall asleep because you don't hear her come in, but you feel your bed dip when she climbs up onto it.

Your bed dips.

You hold your breath and keep your eyes closed. Barely hoping.

She sits cross legged on your bed, by your shoulder, and you work hard at staying still. At not reaching out and holding onto her.

You wonder if she thinks you are sleeping.

You feel her hand on your forehead. It takes everything you have not to touch her.

She traces her fingers over your face, around your eye brows, down the crest of your nose. You keep very still. And she speaks to you.

_I feel something when I'm close to you. In my chest. like a fire. _

She stops talking. You feel her tense. Let out a breath.

_It's good. It's so good. But I'm not used to it...I get scared. _

Oh God, if you could explain all the things that you are feeling right now you would never stop talking. You don't open your eyes. You don't move. Let her think you are sleeping.

Just keep talking.

_Your mother says to tell you what I want. _

She takes a deep breath that tickles your ear. You tighten your jaw.

_I want to get used to you._ Her hand hesitates lingering under your eye.

_I want to trust you._

her fingers trace gently over your nose.

_I want to kiss you. _

Maybe this is a dream. Maybe you are dreaming, because there is no way that this could be happening. There is no way that she could be here, this close to you.

Wanting exactly what you want.

_Maura. _She says, and it's your salvation. The way she says your name.

If she said it the wrong way she could fracture you.

She has that type of power.

You open your eyes.

In the darkness you you can just make out her face, and you watch her eyes widen, her hand freezing.

But not pulling away.

You ghost your own fingers over her wrist, and she watches like she's in a trance.

For a moment you don't know what to say. You can only match your breathing to hers.

Anything to be closer.

You push your finger down over hers against the side of your nose. _That's the lacrimal bone_. You whisper. Her eyes drift down to her hand.

You repeat it.

_The lacrimal bone. _

You don't know why you've said that. But it doesn't feel wrong.

Slowly, she traces back up the middle of your face. Her eyes finding yours.

_Nasal bone._

She doesn't speak, but her hands keep tracing your face. And when she pauses, you name where she has stopped.

Her long fingers draw patterns against your cheek bone.

_Zygomatic bone.  
_You feel her shift so that she's lying next to you on her side. Her hand drifts upwards.

_Temporal Bone. _

Her fingers glide into your hair to press against your skull, and your eyes flutter shut.

_pa- um...parietal bone, _You manage. It's hard to make your mouth move. Your hands feel numb.

She's exploring and you want to let her. You want her to know you like she knows herself.

_Maura._ She whispers your name and you shiver.

You open your eyes and look at her, and she leans down close.

_Hi. _You have the feeling that she is studying you. Trying to commit you to memory so that you don't slide away from her like sevens and nines and twos.

_Hi, sweet girl._ all in one breath out. like love.

She bites her lip. You stay still.

_I want something. _

You are going to explode. That is not an overstatement.

_Anything. _Your hands grab at the mattress. Your nails dig into your palms. Trying to reassure yourself that this is real and happening and god, don't pass out. Just keep breathing so you can hear her.

_Move your seat in science. _She whispers. _Move your seat next to mine._

You laugh. A short puff of air. _Ofcourse_. One word.

You feel her shift beside you, like she's getting ready to go. She pauses, to see if you're going to stop her.

You don't.

_Night._ She says, like she would say more. like this word is all she can manage.

_Good night. _

She starts to move away, and every part of your brain is screaming at you to call her back.

You need her.

You. Need. Her.

But you're wrong. she doesn't go. She shifts onto her knees and leans down by your ear.

all you can do is say her name.

_Maura. _She responds.

You whimper. Feel her breathe.

_Maura. I love you. _

Oh God.

_I love you. will you wait for me?_

You nod and nod. Close your eyes. nodding so you don't see her lean forward.

But she leans forward.

And she presses her lips to yours.

Everything happens.

* * *

**_This story is so important to me. And knowing that it has some kind of place in your days. knowing that it touches you guys too. even just a little.  
It means so much.  
It means so, so much. I hope you know that I don't take your reviews lightly or for granted.  
They are...my light. _**

**_That is not an overstatement. _**

**_take care. _**

**_tc_**


	12. Chapter 12

**_trigger warning. (ts. be careful)_**

* * *

You get better.

It's not something you ever thought would be possible.

October turns into November.

You have a coat.

And underneath that coat you have a sweater.

Like a nice, cable knit sweater. Dark blue.

You have school books. That you can write in.

And in history, you find that if you listen to the teacher, and sketch what she's saying.

You remember everything much better.

.

And you have Maura.

Your routines are split into thirds.

Sometimes you want to draw, and fall asleep alone.

Sometimes you want to hear her breathing.

Sometimes you want to explore her ribcage with your fingers.

Twice you get into her bed and put your head on her shoulder.

Twice she sighs contentedly. _Tell me what you want_.

Both times, you say. o_ne kiss. us. close together. can i touch you here?_

Both times, she pulls your hands around her and the kisses make you dizzy.

.

You can call your Ma anytime you want now.

And Marisol always packs you enough lunch to feed the entire cafeteria.

The two of you sit together. Sometimes with Barry.

Sometimes just the two of you.

You're happy.

….

You sneak into the teacher's lounge to use the photocopier.

It's not your fault they left it open, and it's not your fault that no one is in there.

And it certainly is not your fault that Lira is a big dumb fucking cow.

This week she's had her sights set on Maura.

You watch out for Lira in the halls, and you go after her in gym.

Protective.

No one's going to touch one hair on her head.

And most days you are there, to lower your chin and dare her to go through you.

But you have English with Barry.  
And Maura has English with Lira.

And even though you almost run down the hall and around the corner to get her for lunch. Lira always looks triumphant.

And today she'd looked gleeful.

And your sweet, delicate, golden girl is trying hard not to cry.

_Maura. Bora. Makes the teacher snora. Dresses like a whora. _

It is totally possible to see red.

It is totally possible to fire steam out of your ears.

You grab Maura's hand and pull her away. Into the girl's bathroom, propping the door shut with the trashcan.

When you take her in your arms she falls apart.

Her tears on your neck burn. You scowl at yourself in the mirrors over the sink. At your hand rubbing up and down her back.

Do more, you asshole.

_I love you. _

She takes a deep breath. Like she's breathing that in.

_Am I boring?_

You seethe. _No. Never. No. _Not enough.

_Lira says_.

_Lira is a dumb fucking cow._

She pulls back from you. Startled. And you want to kill that girl. You want to…

_Want to eat with Ms. Grow?_

She nods. And so you pull her close one more time, and then unblock the door.

But even though you walk with her and drop her off at the door. You don't stay.

You make an excuse. Say you'll be back.

And you sneak into the teacher's lounge to use the photocopier.

….

You make 500 copies.

You paper the math room.

You paper Lira's locker.

You paper two girls bathrooms and then the boy's gym changing room for good measure.

Well. Barry does this last one for you. Laughing the entire time.

And you make it back to the science room to walk with her to math.

And when you round the corner, there is a crowd outside the door much bigger than the 24 students who are usually there.

They are all laughing and waving pieces of paper, and she looks up at you curiously with her pretty green eyes and you shrug.

_What's going on?_

You try really hard not to smile. But it's hard when one of the pieces of paper floats towards you and she catches and looks down.

It's even harder when her eyes get wide and she looks up at you.

But it's impossible when Lira rounds the corner to Math class and the group gathered outside the door starts to wave the picture in the air. Chanting as one.

_Lira the steera, the dumbest one that's here-a. Can't find her own rear-a. _

You've never been great at drawing cows.

But this cartoon of a cow body and a girl head?

It's the best work you've ever done.

.

The next day. Three more people ask to sit at your lunch table.

You defer to Maura. Who smiles like it's her birthday.

….

You get an A.

You are so surprised that you stand up. Your muscles jumping you out of your seat involuntarily.

_Yes, Ms. Rizzoli?_ The history teacher says.

You look up at her. Dumbfounded.

Realize that you are standing.

_I-I-got an A._

She grins. _Yes. You did._

You sit down slowly and look across the aisle.

She is beaming at you. _I got an A!_ You mouth.

She kisses her index finger and points at you. Nodding.

You kiss back.

Stare down at your paper. Still bewildered.

.

The ride to her house (to your home? Could you call it…) Is a celebration.

_Charlie. Did you know that genius is contagious?_

You think it's bizarre that he doesn't talk to you. You're not an Isles.

But you don't care.

_I'm smart, Charlie. Well. For today! I'm going to call Ma the second we…no! _

You are full of good ideas.

_Your mom said she would try to get them here for Christmas. I'm going to wait. Maybe I can get more of these and give them all to her. Like a present._

You look over at her. _What?_

She shakes her head and turns her palm over. Asking.

You take her hand immediately.

_I love you._ You frown momentarily at the tears in her voice. Study her face nervously.

Okay, she's crying. But she's also smiling that smile like you've just rescued her from a dragon.

You grin.

_I love you too. _

In the rearview mirror, you catch Charlie smiling.

Softie.

….

You crash into the house and are going to yell out, because that's okay to do here, sometimes.

You want Constance and Richard to see.

You want them to be proud.

But you come up short, because someone is yelling.

You start to back out of the room when you catch the words.

And then you creep closer. Putting your hand on the door to the study.

_And we're supposed to just sit her down, and say: sorry honey, your mother doesn't want you? Richard. She's just getting back on her feet. She's just starting to laugh and speak and smile. We can't do this to her. _

Your hand tightens around the doorknob when you realize that they're talking about you. You can feel Maura behind you.

Holding her breath.

_Do you want to wreck her? _Constance's voice is low in furious. _This will wreck her._

_I want to be honest with her, Connie. I want her to heal. Completely. She can't do that without the truth._

The truth.

You look down at your hands, at the fingernails half grown back.

You are healing.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. A voice in your ear.

_Maybe we shouldn't…_

But Constance is talking again. And you lean closer.

_How could this help her? What will she get from this?_

There is a pause, and you feel the silence in every single part of your body.

_We owe it to her._ His voice is low and firm. _We owe it to her to be the people in her life who do not lie. Who are candid with her all the time. To show her that when bad things happen there are people who will not leave her._

There is a sound like a hand slamming down on a table. Next to you, Maura jumps.

_She was SOLD. _Constance's voice is shrill and angry and you think maybe you have misheard.

But she says it again.

_She was sold. This isn't a playground betrayal or a cheating boyfriend. Her mother sold her to that man for cash money, and he beat her mercilessly for three and a half years. You expect that she's going to just sit there and say okay? Thanks for the info? You've seen her face when she talks about her family. You've seen what she's endured. And only because she's thinking that her mother is going to magically appear and save her. How can we tell her that she was collateral. That her mother was eating while she was starving to death, Richard. _

You hear a chair scrape against the color. _Connie._

_You heard the doctors. Three more weeks with the nutrition she was getting and she would have stopped getting out of bed. Three weeks, Richard. _

You picture Constance's fierce blue eyes.

_She was dying._ _And her mother knew. And chose to take the money._

You can't breathe. You can feel hands on your shoulders. Someone is whispering in your ear. Saying your name. Pulling at you.

You want to move. You want to run.

You can't even breathe.

_We don't know the circumstanc-_

Something crashes to the floor.

_You're telling me that if some man came in here and offered you money for Maura, you'd just let him take her? You would stay away for two years? You have heard her voice when she talks to her mother. You're telling me you wouldn't know? You didn't know the moment that Maura said hello a month ago that you had to get home?_

You've never heard anyone this angry before. Constance's heels click against the floor. You pull back a little so they can't see you.

Maura pulls at you. Whispering. _Jane._ Begging.

You don't move.

_You've seen her nightmares and her bruises and the way she watches you like she's still just waiting for you to strike her. _

A pause, in which you consider that your heart is no longer beating.

_You know he raped her, Richard. _

You're nowhere.  
You do not exist.

_We don't know that. _

You're nothing.

_Of course we do. Or if he didn't, he came damn close. She still wears two pairs of pants to bed. Hasn't she been through enough? Do we really have to put this on her too? She's sixteen years old. _

If you don't move. Right this second. You are going to die.

So you turn.

And you run. pushing at Maura and sprinting back through the house.

Making noise that you can't even hear.

You don't hear the door slam behind you, you don't see Charlie look up from where he's leaning against the car, or hear Richard call your name as he throws the door open behind you.

You don't hear anything but screaming.

Which is really crying.

You're crying.

But you're not going fucking admit that to anyone.

.

Almost a month of three square meals and good night's sleep and you are stronger than you can ever remember.

The shoes on your feet are not falling apart.

Your legs do not ache.

You run and run and run, sucking in deep breaths that don't burn so you push yourself harder trying to make it hurt.

_She was sold._

You don't know if you're madder that Constance wanted to hide it or that Richard wanted to tell you or that…

Or that…

Your mother took money. And gave you away.

You stop dead in the middle of the park, eyes wide.

Where are you going, you stupid fucking…nothing. Where are you going? Where are you running to?

Why didn't you just stay in the hallway and let grief and humiliation swallow and kill you.

You clench your fists.

Something crumples and you look down.

Your history paper is still clutched in your hand.

Your first A.

You drop it like it's on fire. And then you step on it like that too.

Grinding it into the grass under your foot.

And it's your face under his boot. Your arms jerked behind you. Tied.

The flashback hits you hard enough to make you stumble backwards. Heart hammering.

_No. No I'll be good. _

That's just reflex, he's not here.

Old muscle memory. Not gone.

Just buried.

You turn away from the history paper.

And you run.

…

Eddie doesn't comment on your red eyes or the way you're panting when you appear at the door to the library.

He's seen you much worse.

_Hey lady. Long time no see. Couldn't stay away?_

You look up at him, and for a moment his smile flickers into an expression of real concern.

But you square your shoulders and harden your face.

And he inclines his head. Like he understands.

_Anyway. You got someone waiting for you up there. Just got here._

Your heart jumps.

Maura.

.

You take the stairs two at a time, smiling.

She has figured you out and she has come to take you back to her house.

Where you want to go.

You want to go home.

You round the corner to the massive globe and almost run inside. _Maur?_

You're going to say sorry. You're going to hug her.

You're going to kiss her like you've wanted to kiss her for three weeks now.

_Maura?_

But it's not her.

It's not Constance or Richard either.

Charles Hoyt turns around to look at you.

He smiles.

You can see everything in his face. He's an open book of plans for you.

And you're going to die.

_I've been waiting for you, Jane._

* * *

_**be strong. **_

_**hoyt is hoyt. no matter the verse.  
be strong.  
I'll bring you through this soon. **_


	13. Chapter 13

You're nothing.

You watch the police come in and out of the living room.

They talk to everyone but you.

You don't exist

You feel like you're sinking.

.

Here are the things you know as facts:

Jane went to the one other place she felt safe in the world.

Charles Hoyt was there. He grabbed her and tried to drag her away.

She screamed. Dropped her phone.

Eddie tried to stop Charles from taking her.

Charles knocked him unconscious.

When he woke up, he called the police.

And then he dialed the number on Jane's phone marked. _Home._

…..

You try to focus on the facts. Sit on the stairs and hug your knees and try to focus on just the things you know to be completely true, because the things that you don't know for sure are the things that are eating you alive inside.

You don't know if she is bleeding, or if she is fighting, or crying, or cold or scared. You don't know where she is or if she misses you, or if she is even conscious enough to miss you.

You don't know if she is alive.

No. You think that she must be alive because if she died then something inside of you would die too. Right at that instant. And you would feel it. And you would know.

So you focus on what you know to be facts. And nothing else.

…

He's her legal guardian. Charles Hoyt.

You hear your mother tell the police in the next room. _Her mother signed custody over when she was twelve. She lived with him on and off in seventh grade and moved in permanently over Christmas Break, her eighth grade year. I don't know when the abuse started, but when she came to stay with us, she could barely stand up. She weighed eighty seven pounds. _

You feel dizzy. You can't take in enough air and everything around you is vibrating.

_You may arrest us for kidnapping only after you have found her._ You can hear the worry in her voice though you know the police will hear only fury, and you're glad. You want them to care.

.

Your father comes to sit next to you on the stairs, where you have been listening.

You don't apologize.

He doesn't tell you to go away.

_Your mother called her this morning._ He doesn't touch you. You don't want him to. You look up at him and he rubs the back of his neck. _Angela. _

You make a sound. It's like a warning. He nods, understanding.

_Called to see if she could get Angela to give us temporary custody. So we could file a police report for her. Get her set up with some kind of medical treatment._

You wish he would stop talking. You wish you could get up and walk away from him. You close your eyes.

_She'd already given full custody to Charles. _

Stop talking. Stop talking. You want to tell him to shut. up. But you don't say anything because you need to hear. You need him to tell you. But you wish he would shut up.

_We don't know exactly what it was…in exchange for. By that point. Your mother was…_

Yes. You can picture your mother becoming angrier and angrier. On the backs of your eyelids, you can see her, tight lipped and furious. White knuckles on the back of the phone. You open your eyes and look up at your father. _The police went to his last known address. The one Jane's mother had. _

You shake your head. This, you really don't want to hear. _He's not there anymore, sweetheart. _

_They don't know where she is._

_..._

You push the door open to her room, angry at yourself for holding your breath.

As though if you wish hard enough, she'll be there, sitting on her bed with a sketch pad in her lap, biting her lip and concentrating.

But it's empty. You knew it would be. Logically.

In the end. After trying every medium your mother brought home. She settled on charcoal, and the bulletin board above her desk is overflowing with drawings done in black and white, smudged and stark and beautiful. You look at each one of them, trees and houses. The vacant lot next to the school. Her desk in Math class with her initials scratched into the side.

And people too. Most of them you. You, looking down. Concentrating. You laughing. You, eating pasta.

But there's also your father at the chess board, his eyebrows pushed together with thought. Your mother reading, the outline of her favorite easy chair half finished, gray and light against the paper. Your parents, together, her looking mildly annoyed and him laughing, frozen like the joke has just come out of his mouth. There're Charlie's eyes framed by the rearview mirror. Crinkled in a smile.

You try to fight the tears. Tears won't bring her back. Tears would wash these pictures away, and if she comes back, she would be angry.

If she comes back.

When. She comes back. You pull at the picture of your parents, and it loosens the one of your driver, which flutters to the ground. You pick it up.

_Charlie._

It hits you so hard that you say it out loud. _Charlie! _Again, and you are running.

Running down the hall and down the stairs, your heart pounding harder with each step until it is painful.

You're yelling. For anyone.

And your mother is the first in the hall, grabbing you around the shoulders.

_Where are you hurt? Maura?_

And you can't make complete sentences; you can't focus on what you want to say, so you wave the picture in her face. Your father comes up behind her and you lock eyes with him. Gulping air. Yelling and crying and waving. _Charlie!_ You're going to have to do better than that.

_Drove her!_ Almost. You take a deep breath and try again.

_Charlie knows!_

And you can see in your parent's eyes, that they have understood you. That they know now, too.

Your mother lets you go suddenly, turning to face your father. _Richard_. Barely daring to hope for it. But he's already gone. Calling to the officer in the living room, and every part of you is Jane. You were built for her. You know that now, when she is gone, as surely as when you slip your arms around her in bed. You close your eyes and lean against the wall of the hallway. Breathing.

Your father comes back into the hall. You open your eyes and he reaches out his hand. He doesn't even have to ask.

Here are the things you know to be facts:

Charles Hoyt took her.

Charlie knows where she is.

You're going to bring her back.

…

How to mount a specimen, specifically, a butterfly:

After relaxing the specimen remove it from its previous location carefully, using forceps. Holding the specimen by the thorax, force an insect pin through the middle of the body between the wings. The wings may be forced backwards in order to insert the pin far enough through the body. After the pin is through the body, it is often helpful to force the wings down briefly with forceps. This step makes the specimen easier to manipulate once it is on the mounting board.

Next pin the specimen onto the mounting board being certain to keep the side of the butterfly, where the wings are hinged to the body, just above the surface. Be sure to press the pins down vertically, and not diagonally, so as to minimize damage and keep your butterfly as beautiful when it was living.

…..

You sit in the waiting room and for the first time in your life, you try not to think. Your mother sits next to you but you're not touching. She had tried to take your hand when you got here, but you'd jerked away and she didn't try again.

You wait.

Your mother kneels down in front of your chair and you don't remember when she got up. She's holding a towel and you can only look at it like she's crazy.

But then she begins wiping at your forehead and your chin and arms, and you gasp at the way the terrycloth is getting redder and redder.

_It's okay._ Your mother rubs at your face. _It's okay._

…

They brought her out and she was screaming. You'd heard her yell before. You'd heard her try to speak through her own tears. This was different. It stopped all of your everything. You heartbeat, your bloodflow, your synapses. She was screaming and screaming. And you couldn't see her yet, but nothing was going to keep you from her.

Because she was screaming your name.

…

_It's not a matter of the goddamn insurance. We have enough to pay her bills seventy times over and then buy this hospital and knock it to the ground. _  
Your father is angry. You sit in the chair. Still.

Still you are sitting and waiting.

You are sitting as still as you can.

_It is the simple fact that if you make her a ward of the state, she goes on the government's dime and she gets shoved in a room with ten other kids and nobody checks on her for hours. She's getting a private room and she's getting the best doctors this hospital has. I don't care what I have to do. _

…

Your father didn't try to hold you back. In fact. He had pushed officers out of the way for you. He'd heard her screaming too. The entire block could hear her.

And once you'd put your eyes on her, guns couldn't keep you away. You were next to the gurney before you'd registered that she was covered in blood. Soaking.

But you didn't care. You didn't care and your hands were around her wrists, and in her hair and on her face.

And she was whimpering then. Head falling back against the head rest.

And her hands grabbed at you but didn't hold on.

It confused you but you didn't look because you couldn't look anywhere but her face. At pale lips moving again and again over your name. Your name and something else. Something you didn't understand until later.

_Maura. My hands. My hands. _

...

Six hours, two judges called in the middle of the night, one witness and four social workers. A delivery of food and coffee from a restaurant that does not normally deliver. Fresh clothes for you that your mother helps you change into.

The full breadth and power of the Isles name and money and connections. Your father wields it without blinking an eye, threatening hell and damnation like Zeus. Threatening jobs and salaries and moral and spiritual decay for those who dare to stand in his way.

Money talks, but your father yells. And yells.

His voice rings around the waiting room and the nurse's station until it becomes like a second skin and you sit quietly. Still and still. Waiting.

Six hours and finally. He wins.

One stamp on one piece of paper.

And you can go see her.

…

She is tranquilized. Half awake and half drugged. Your mother stops at the door and nods that you can continue.

_Be gentle with her, honey._

You swallow, go to ask what has been done and find that you cannot form those words. Not yet. But your mother understands.

_You saved her._ She whispers. _You. _The push she gives you is gentle. _Go._

.

Her eyes are so cloudy and unlike her that you cannot bear to look in them for very long.  
You sit down in the chair beside the bed, but she makes a dissatisfied sound and when you look at her, her eyes shift to the space beside her and back again.

Carefully you climb up. Sit down again.

You can't look in her eyes and you can't look at her hands, so you focus on her neck. Where the tips of fingers, purple and blue and distinct as if they were real, creep up over the neck line of her hospital gown.

You can feel hear studying you. Waiting. You know that she's scared but that she will wait to admit it. That she is protecting you. Even now.

_Hi. _The first thing you say to her after she is almost murdered and it's lame. The first thing you do in front of the love of your life after she survives is cry. _Sweet girl._

The second thing you say. Not much better.

She licks her lips, and seems to focus herself. You wait.

_Feel my heart._ The words are slurred and at first you don't understand them. You lean closer to her and she tries again. Brow tight with concentration. _feel. my. heart. _

You do. Your hand pressing gently to her chest, watching her face to make sure you're not hurting her.

It's there. Solid and thumping, bringing a new wave of tears to your eyes.

You try to hold onto the feeling of it under your hand. Try to hold on to the facts:

Seven hours ago, they wheeled Jane Rizzoli out of a basement on a gurney. She's lying next to you and her heart is beating underneath your hands.

Seven hours ago, they wheeled Charles Hoyt out of the basement too.

In a body bag.

_Can you feel it?_ Her eyes are closed so you have to do more than nod.

You swallow hard. _Yes. _

She almost smiles. _It's finally beating right._

* * *

**_"If you don't write the book you have to write, everything breaks." -AM Homes_**


	14. Chapter 14

You wake up with a jerk and realize that you cannot move your arms. They are tied down by your side and they are screeching with pain. You're blind and terrified and the last thing you remember must have been a dream. No one came. You've woken in the basement and he's just gone to get the next tool that's going to kill you. You're going to die. You're…

_Hey. Calm down. You're safe. You're safe now._

That voice is familiar. You try to place it in your mind. Try to match it with a face, but all you get is piercing blue eyes.

_You're okay. Take deep breaths, sweetheart, that's it. You're alright. Open your eyes. It's alright._

You remember blue eyes and gentle hands. Think hard but you can't remember the name. And you can't see. Panic pokes at you again and you pull at your arms. Pain streaks up your wrists into your elbows and back. Doubling itself as it goes. You whimper.

_Open your eyes._ Her voice is firm. And a hand is on your face, tilting your head gently to the side. _Open your eyes. Maura is there._

You snap your eyes open and then shut because everything is blurry. When you crack them again you can see her. Lying on a rolling cot with her face turned towards you. Eyes closed.

You reach for her. Gasp. More pain.

_Your wrists are bound._ You turn towards the voice and when you see her face you remember. Constance. She smiles. Pushes your hair back away from your face. You squirm. _I know that it's awful. I know. But it's to keep your hands still while you sleep…They need to stay still, sweetheart._

There's a hiss from a nearby machine and almost immediately you are exhausted. You try to fight it. Try to keep your eyes open. You turn back to look at Maura.

She's here. She came for you.

_Don't fight it, darling. Go to sleep. We'll all be here when you wake up. _

All. You turn you head and look down to the foot of your bed. Her father is there. Richard. Asleep in an armchair. You look back at Constance. She says something, and you don't hear what it is, but it's accompanied by her hand on your forehead.

Then you're asleep.

…..

How to Survive:

Do not waste your energy doing stupid things like screaming and flailing when you know that his grip is much too tight for you to escape from.

When he says that you are going to die. When he says that he is going to kill you. Do not cry and beg him not to, or try to run away.

This will kill you faster.

Do not lose consciousness. Cover your head when he beats at it, and when his hand tightens around your neck, kick up and out with your feet as hard as you can. Ignore the other places he hits you. Ignore the loss of your clothes. Ignore the mouth on your ear.

Protect the places that keep you awake. Your head. Your throat…

Do not lose consciousness. If you do. You will die.

Detach yourself. Do not look at the gleaming instruments or his ecstatic smile. Do not hear the words that you are nothing and you are defiant and that you are going to pay.

Do. Not. Watch the silver scalpel slide through the palm of your hand. You will lose consciousness. And that will kill you.

Scream a little. You can't help it. But don't fucking look. The second one will hurt worse and it will be harder to keep your eyes closed. Do it anyway.

And keep breathing. That's another one. Even if you're gasping, or choking, or hyperventilating, you're still taking in air. Keep doing that.

Cry. You don't actually need that to survive, but it's going to happen, so you can just accept it now. Cry because it hurts it hurts it hurts. Cry, because if you're crying. You're awake…. You're alive.

Remember her.

Remember the way she laughs or the way the way she says your name. Remember the way her face lit up when those kids asked to sit with her. Remember how proud you were when she beat all those other girls at tennis. Remember that she says she loves you. Remember that she loves you.

Listen. These are the things you need to do to survive: Do not close your eyes. Do not give in.

Don't look at the places that hurt. Detach yourself. When you hear the sirens. Scream.

Listen. You've got to stay awake. Stay. Alive.

Remember.

…

They bind your arms at night so that you can't move them and your hands can stay still. Her father (he says you can call him Rich. But you work hard to call him nothing at all) fights with them. Tells them that you should be free to move so that your nightmares don't get worse.

You feel awful that he's seen you having nightmares.

He switches out the entire rotation of nurses and Attendings after you have a panic attack in the middle of the night.

You woke up to find a man adjusting your machine, and you were so scared that you wet the bed.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry._ You'd cried against Maura's shoulder, sitting in the wheelchair while they changed the sheets. So ashamed that you wanted to disappear.

She'd rubbed at your back. _It doesn't matter. It's okay. _You'd pressed against her. Wanting everyone to leave except her. Maybe even her too. That's how ashamed you were.

Now all your nurses and doctors are women.

No one comes into your room at night.

.

Charles Hoyt is dead. The therapist that you won't talk to says it might help your nightmares to see the death certificate. You shrug because you don't care.

When you think of him you don't feel anything, not fear or sadness or anger.

There's just this big empty blank feeling inside of you where he used to be. But the therapist is looking at you, waiting. So you nod, and she smiles. You're glad that you've made her feel useful.

But the death certificate brings someone with it that you weren't expecting. The officer who killed Hoyt. Tall and broad shouldered. He ducks past Richard Isles and comes to sit in the chair next to your bed. He looks nervous, and he holds a rectangular object covered in a little towel. _Hi._

You don't know why, but he makes you want to smile. _Hi. _

Silence, while he looks at his hands and you study his uniform. His name badge reads Korsak, and underneath there is a shiny new medal. It reads Act of Valor.

_Korsak_. You say, trying it out. It's the first word you've spoken all day, and all the Isles look around at you like you are Helen Keller.

_Yeah, _He says, looking up.

_Did you get that medal because you shot Charles?_ He looks down at his chest, and then back up at you, frowning.

_No. I got it because I got you out of there._

You're not sure why this distinction makes you feel better. You smile again and this time he returns it. _You were doing a great job staying alive before I got there, though_. Behind him, you see Richard open his mouth, but Constance puts out her hand, stopping him. Korsak continues. _You were really brave._

From this man, it does not feel like a lie. He knows what bravery is.

_Thanks._

He looks away again, and then seems to remember that he's brought something. _Here. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to have this, but the hospital made an exception_.

He moves to hand you the box, and then realizes that you can't hold anything. He blushes. Sets it down next to you and pulls the sheet off.

It's a hamster. Running like mad on a little wheel. You gasp.

_I read that physical therapy goes faster with an animal. _He's looking at you, nervous. Trying to figure out if your gasp was a good one. _I thought…when you get there...you can hold this little dude._

You would hug this man if he wasn't a person and if hugging was something that you weren't terrified of doing.

Instead you try to smile big. _Thank you! Thank you!_

He beams at you. _You're welcome, Jane. _

Constance comes up next to you, and for a moment you're afraid. _Can I keep him?_ You are already saying good bye to him in your head.

Constance looks at you, sad before she makes herself smile. _Of course you can keep him. What are you going to name him?_

You frown. Look in as he runs and runs. _I have to think about it._

…

Maura comes. Every day after school, 3:49pm. You could set your watch by her. And each day she's bringing you something. A new magazine, or a map to put on the wall, a DVD.

Constance feeds you breakfast and lunch, and both meals are silent and tense. She knows you hate being fed like a baby, and you know she is just sitting there feeling sorry. You are tired of apologies. Everyone is apologizing endlessly.

But Maura doesn't apologize. She feeds you dinner and she talks about school.

_Ms. Grow said to say she misses you and get better soon. Barry still sits with me at lunch. And this girl Riley now too. Barry says he wants to come see you. Whenever you're ready. _

You ask about Lira. You ask about gym.

_Our gym teacher's gone. We're having health while they look for a new one, I think._

You see Constance flash Richard a look. He hides a smile behind clearing his throat.

You hold up your mitten hands experimentally between bites. Each finger is kept still with metal braces and then the entire hand is wrapped in an ace bandage. Constance has brought you bright blue mittens to put over these. They are slowly easing the pain medication, and tonight they ache dully, like forewarning.

_The doctor says that tomorrow night I can sleep normally. Not tied. _

This is how your days pass.

.

Saturday. No school, so Maura stays over and you wake up beside her. Your favorite thing. She rolls over sleepy and looks at you out of one hazy green eye. _What should we do today?_

Yesterday, she brought the entire Will Farrell collection. _Movies_.

She yawns and kisses your shoulder. You shiver because it's good. It feels good.

_Movies it is._

Constance comes midday. Then Richard. The therapist who you don't talk to.

Your mitten hands (you're starting to forget what your real hands look like) twinge today. You put gentle pressure on the right one when rearranging yourself on the bed, and it hurts. But not enough to make you gasp.

Between DVDs the TV is on. Channel Seven News. You glance up and then look back. Eyes wide.

You're looking at…You.

A picture of you as a little girl, nine or ten, is sitting on the shoulder of the news caster. You wave your mittens for silence.

**And coming up, we'll have more on the Sixteen year old who was sold into slavery by her own mother at twelve, as well as a look at the sentence that her mother could serve, and whether or not she deserves prison time. Our viewer poll is next. Stay tuned. **

A commercial for cars comes on, and you are aware that all three Isles are searching frantically for the remote, but you just stare up at the mounted TV. Dumbstruck.

Maura finally succeeds in locating the little black box, and snaps the picture off. You can feel her staring at you. Eyes wide.

_That was my picture._ Your voice sounds strange in your ears.

She puts her hand on your arm, squeezing a little. _Yes. _

You swallow, but it is hard. Your mouth has gone completely dry. The words are filtering through slowly but you're having trouble making sense of them. _Am I. Am I. News?_

She glances at her parents and then back at you. _Yes._

You want to hug your knees. You pull them up to your chest but you can hold them. You look at the plate in her hand, full of food that you can't feed yourself.

You hate.

You're a black hole. You look up into her face. _I hate her._

She nods. _That's okay. _

You sigh. As quickly as the anger comes, it fades away and you are nothing. Tell them. _I'm nothing._

She puts the plate down quickly. Scooting closer to you. _You're incredible._

_I don't exist._

She touches your knee. _I see you._

You look up at Constance, who looks back at you, her face full of something that you can't name.

_Will she come see me, do you think? Now? _You hate yourself for sounding like that's what you want.

Constance frowns a little. _I don't know. Do you want her to?_

You look at Richard. You know that he has been running interference at the door, and now you know why. _If she asks. I'd like to know._

He nods, though you see his jaw tighten.

You hold out your mittenhands to Maura and she climbs up on the bed with you. You put your head on her shoulder. Close your eyes.

_Tell me what you want_. She whipsers. _Anything. I'll make it happen._

You sigh because you thought that there were hundreds of things to want, but it turns out there's just one.

_us. close together._ Tomorrow. You will ask to see the entire news. Tomorrow you will talk to the therapist.

Not tonight. _closer. Aiutatemi.*_

She pulls you closer. And you think maybe she will stay gentle forever. You think. Maybe you are lucky after all. To have her.

_You got it, sweet girl._ You feel her lips on your temple. _Sono qui_.**

Yes...Lucky.

Lucky girl.

* * *

*help me **I'm here

**Guys...  
Thank you.  
No...I mean...I mean like...if you knew...  
just. **

**thanks. **

**love.  
tc**


	15. Chapter 15

Without her, school is Grey.

Before you had her, you didn't mind being alone. You didn't care if the other kids avoided you or if you sat alone in the cafeteria. You still love learning and numbers and facts, but without Jane, school is a motion to go through.

You know your father had the gym teacher fired. You remember the way your mother had looked when you told her that she did nothing. It was just a matter of time.

You know that the school has come under fire. That the media is roasting them on a daily basis.

An eighty seven pound junior. Five foot six inches, and no one paid any attention, the news says. No one noticed.

But you also know Jane. And if she didn't want to be seen…then nobody saw her.

Barry seems to take it for granted that any friend of hers is his friend too. And although you can't hold his hand, or steal kisses from him in the girls' bathroom between classes, he watches out for Lira for you.

He makes sure you always have someone to sit with at lunch.

.

They don't release where she is. Your father at least took care of that. They don't release that it's your family that has taken her in.

Still, reporters come to the school four days in a row and ask you. _Do you know her? Do you know the girl?_ They look hungry. Like vultures.

You say no. And you keep walking.

.

Christmas is coming and it is cold.

Charlie is always waiting with the car running now. Heat blasting.

When you get in today, he looks at you for a long time before he starts to drive off to the hospital.

You drive the normal way, but you can feel his eyes on you more often than usual.

Finally, when you pull up in front of the hospital, he goes to get out and you stop him.

_Wait. Charlie?_

He sits back in his seat, and his eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror.

_Thank you_. _I mean. I know that you were just doing your job. Taking her to and from that place. But…Thank you for remembering where it was. You…you saved her. _

He looks at you, and you can see why Jane chose to draw his eyes. They are deep and curious and expressive. He looks at you like he wants to say something. And you want him to. Who cares what etiquette says and who cares what the rules are. You don't even care if he calls you Miss Isles, or ma'am or Maura or girl. You just want him to speak to you.

_Thank you, Charlie._

He looks down. _She's gonna be okay?_ His voice is soft and kind, and you wonder for the first time if he has kids. Or a wife. You wonder where he goes, when he's not driving you. Your car cannot be his whole life. You feel guilty for not wondering before.

_She's gonna be okay?_ He asks again because you haven't answered.

_Yes! Yes. _You're reassuring yourself too. _She's going to be okay. She's hurt…but. She'll get better. _

Charlie nods once, and gets out of the car. He comes around and opens your door.

_That's good then._ He shuts the door of the car behind you. _Thank you… ma'am._

…

You're in a hurry to get to her.

Today is the day that her bandages come off and she starts physical therapy.

She starts to use her hands today and you're in a hurry because you want to be there when the braces come off to tell her that she is beautiful.

You want to help her and hold her and tell her that you love her.

But your mother meets you in the hallway, around the corner from her room. She holds out her hands to stop you and immediately you are panicked.

_They took the braces off about twenty minutes ago. _Your mother motions that you should sit together on a bench nearby. You do so grudgingly. _She's in a lot of pain_.

You move to stand up. _Then I want to be with her. _You do not understand why your mother is holding you back. _I should be with her. If she's hurting. It hurts less when I'm there._ You don't know if you mean her pain or your pain. _Mother?_

She takes your hands in hers. _Do not think that I have forgotten you, Maura_. You stare, confused. _I know that this is taking a toll on you as well as her. If you need space from this. If you need to go home some days, and not be here. In the hospital. You will not be abandoning her. That would not be betrayal. _

Slowly, like she's worried you might push her away, your mother puts her arms around you. _You are amazing. You have been amazing. _You close your eyes._ But you are human. _

You love your mother. You don't care that she's been away more than she has been with you. You do not care that most people find her cold and aloof. You love her.

How do you explain to her that the only person you love more than her is sitting in a hospital room down the hall? In pain.

_I love you._ You say and she pulls away to smile at you, wiping hastily at her eyes because Isles women do not cry. _ I love you, mother, and I know you're just, trying to look after me…but. I-_

You look past her, down the hall towards Jane's room.

Your mother smiles, and then laughs, standing and smoothing her skirt. Shaking her head. _Alright._ She's still shaking her head, but her voice is light. _Alright._

…

**_Ex diversitate, vires. Ex fide et amore, imperiis. Semper_** **_prorsum et sursum. Semper, selume proferre._**

Jane looks at the little plaque as you hang it up by the bed.

_Do you know what that means?_

She shakes her head and looks at you, and you smile, coming to sit near her. squeezing her arm.

_From diversity, strength. From faith and love, power. Always onward and upward. Always, towards the light._

She looks down at her hands, and you do too. The scars on her palms are still faintly pink. The new skin looks tender. Like a baby's.

She looks over at her hamster, curled up asleep in a pile of woodchips. _What's the word for strong? Like… Brave. In Latin?_

You think. _Virtus. _

She smiles, leaning forward to look closer. _Veer toose. _She says quietly. You smile. _Does he look brave to you? Is it a good name? For a hamster?_

You never look at the little bundle of fur. You can't take your eyes off her face.

_It's perfect._

….

The physical therapist's name is Monica.

She sets an empty can of soda on the table in front of you. She smiles at Jane and then at you.

Neither of you smile back.

_When you can make a dent in an empty soda can. _She squeezes her hand into a fist to show what she means. _You can go home. It would be great to be home in time for Christmas, right?_

Jane sniffs. Shrugs her shoulders. You rub her back. _But we're going to start slow. Today, I just want to work on getting those fingers straight._

Her hands are loose fists. They shake a little. She looks down at them like they don't belong to her.

Monica nods, and leans forward. _Put your hands flat on the table._

She shudders. _I can't_.

_Of course you can. Of course you can._ She taps the table. _Flat, here, for three minutes. Then a break. _Monica says this casually, and Jane looks up at her and then at you. She lifts one hand, her fingers curled in against her will like the way a spider's legs do when it dies. She lifts it for you to see, and there are tears on her cheeks.

_I can't. _

You reach out to her, slowly, and she doesn't pull away. She watches your face as you line your fingers up at the bottoms of hers. _I'll help you. _

You look up at her._ Do you trust me? Are you ready?_ A moment's pause… and she nods.

_Okay._You slide your fingers up hers, straightening them, pressing gently against the resistance.  
She whimpers once, and her breathing gets faster, but doesn't pull away. And after a moment you are palm to palm. Her right hand against your left. The raised bump of the scar against your palm.

_Now the other. _

She lifts her left hand at once, and you do the same thing. She shudders a little, and holds in a sob, and when you look up at her, one tear slips out of the corner of her eye.

_It's okay. _You lean your head forward. _Breathe._

She leans forward too, resting her forehead on yours.

The two of you sit together, like it's some kind of ritual. And maybe it is. Palm to palm and head to head. Waiting for the three minutes to be up. _Just breathe. _

_Time._ Monica says it softly. Reverently, and when you look up, all three adults are staring at the two of you.

You blush, but look back at Jane. _Good girl. _She smiles at you.

Monica glances at your parents in the corner. They are still looking at you. _Okay._ Her voice sounds shaky. Like she might cry. _Okay…A minute and then we'll go again. Alright?_

.

By the end, She is sweaty and breathing hard, but her hands look less curled. And though her face is streaked with tears, she also looks…a little bit proud.

She looks at the soda can. But she doesn't touch it.

_You did so great. You are incredible. _She looks at you. Blows a piece of hair out of her face. You lean forward and touch your hand to her heart.

_Ex diversitate, vires. _

She smiles. Whispers. _Always. Towards the light._

…

You hear your parents in the hall when you come out of the bathroom in your pajamas.

_I just think she needs a break. She must need a break._ Your father's voice is tense. _Jesus. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to lose it. I hate that bastard so much._

Your mother's voice is calm and steady. Strong. _You saw them today, during PT, but you didn't see her when she first got here. In the hall. _

There is silence and you wait. Heart pounding.

_It's the real thing, Richard. _Certain. Final. _They're in love. I'm not going to tell her she can't stay. Not when they need each other like that._

You turn away, smiling. The real thing.

Yes. It is.

.

Sliding down next to her in bed, you kiss her shoulder. _I am so proud of you._

She sighs, the breath rolling through her entire body, but she doesn't answer, just shifts closer. You rub up and down her arm, listening to the nurse's faint chatter out in the hall, and the rolling of the janitors carts.

_Maura. _Her voice comes out of the darkness. You nod to show that you are still awake.

_Tomorrow I want to wear real clothes. No more mittens. No more hospital gowns. _

You smile against her. Wanting to throw your arms around her. Instead you nod.

_Will you help me?_

You move up and press your lips to her cheek, waiting for her to relax. _Of course I will._

She turns her head so that you can rest your forehead against hers, like you usually do before falling asleep, but when you lean forward, you find her lips instead.

She kisses you.

It's soft and hesitant, and you let her lead even though your entire body is shattering into a million tiny little pieces.

She pulls back and you miss her like oxygen. _Maura?_

You couldn't make your mouth work if someone offered you piles of gold. But it's okay, because she leans in and kisses you again, and the shattered pieces of you jump back together. Vibrating and exultant and full.

_Maura?_

All you can do is make half of a sigh. You open your eyes. She looks back at you.

Slowly, she lifts her hand. You stay frozen. Barely able to believe that this is happening, but wanting it so badly that your other senses start to shut down.

Carefully, lip between her teeth in concentration. She puts her hand on the back of your neck, fingers coming to rest flush against your skin. She gasps a little, but her face doesn't register any pain.

_Oh, God._ It slips out of you by accident. You can't help it.

_Maura? _She looks up at you and you nod. The fingers on your neck contract faintly. She almost smiles.

_I want to come home for Christmas._

* * *

**_From diversity. Strength.  
Lets have some Christmas before we meet Angela. _**

**_As always. I love you guys.  
I am inspired daily by your comments and PMs _**

**_tc_**


	16. Chapter 16

Three days before Christmas, you get two visitors.

You're sitting on the bed staring at the soda can. Trash talking. The can is your enemy and you hate each other. Two days ago, you picked it up. Everyone had clapped and cheered. You'd gasped with the effort, and the can had fallen back down onto the table. Mocking you.

You want to crush it.

So you're trash talking the can in your head when Ms. Grow appears. She doesn't say hi. Just looks into your surprised face and crosses the room quickly to sit in Maura's seat by your bed.

she's holding flowers. twelve christmas roses in a clear crystal vase.

She sets them on the table by the bed but doesn't speak. Just looks down into her lap.

You don't mind. most of your time with Ms. Grow is spent in silence. You look back at the can.

_Hey can. I'm going to crush you. I'm going to crush you up so bad._

You scowl. Trying to intimidate it.

.

_As a teacher. They tell you you're not supposed to have favorites. _Her voice jerks you out of your concentration and you look up at her.

_You're supposed to remain indifferent and unbiased. Take the same amount of pride in all your students. _She looks up and meets your eyes briefly and then looks away, like she's afraid.

_Once you actually become a teacher, however...You realize that that's bullshit._

You're eyes go wide at the swear word. She looks angry. You sit back against your pillow in case she decides that her anger is at you. For not telling her.

_You realize. _She shakes her head. _You realize that there are some kids who are so hard working, and so earnest and so deserving...That you can't help but enjoy them more. _

You watch her, confused by the way her emotions shift so quickly. She wrings her hands together and you are visited by one quick stab of jealousy. Sharp like a knife.

_I knew things were hard for you._ And she looks up at you now, all wide grey eyes._ I knew you were having trouble at home...maybe even that someone was..._

You lean forward again. Like if you could get closer you would understand her anguish and she wouldn't have to find the words.

_I thought...I thought that if I made myself available. If I didn't press you..._ She shakes her head and looks down again. You frown.

_I should have done more._

You want to fix the cracks in her voice but you don't know how. How can you explain that the extra two hours you spent in her classroom at the end of every day probably kept you alive long enough to escape.

How do you explain that she taught you about the solar system.

How do you explain that she saw you.

_I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that this happened to you. _

You want to tell her, but you can't find the words. So you stay silent, watching her. And after a moment she gets up and heads to the door. Like you are a gravestone and she's paid her respects.

No don't go! Tell her! _You saved my life._

She's almost to the door, but she spins, eyes wide, to look at you. _What?_

You grimace, focusing hard on making your hand do what you want. You point to the door, where Maura's face has just appeared in the window, smiling and happy. You point, and Ms. Grow looks at her and then back at you. Still confused. _You saved me._ You put your hand down so you can smile.

_You brought me Maura. _

_..._

Barry sits silent too. From the moment he arrives. His face is pale and his shoulders tight with nerves and you think this was a bad idea. You should not have told him he could come.

_Were you scared?_ his question comes without looking up.

You start to lie. Realize you don't want to. _Yeah._

More silence. And then. _I been looking out for Maura for you. While you're gone. An' I got Alissa to look out for her in gym. _He glances up. Away. _She's safe. While you're here._

He says this like he knows all the reasons this would be important to you.

He's the best guy. But you'd never fucking admit that to his face. _Thanks._

He grins at his shoes. Grins like his old self. _You know I always got your back. _

You sit back quickly. You did not know that. But you like it. _Yeah? Like...Like friends?_

He looks at you hard. Incredulous. _Yeah like friends. Like...like partners. _He makes a fist and holds it out before looking a little nervous. _Can you..._

You grit your teeth, pulling your fingers in towards your palm. Without that fucking can to resist them, they come almost willingly. You hold out your fist.

He grasps your wrist with one hand, and with the other, gently gently. Lays his knuckles on yours.  
_Partners. _He says.

You grin big, even if it hurts. _Partners. _

_..._

But you like it best when it's just you and her.

It's Christmas Eve day.

You face away from her, and she pulls your tank top down for you. You feel her hands linger in the small of your back. tracing.

It feels good and you never want her to stop.

You feel terrified. You want her to stop touching you right now.

_Maura. _Something in your voice makes her pull away. You are sad to feel her leave. You love her for understanding.

You spin and she helps you into your shirt, long sleeved, blue plaid, button up. She smiles as she does up the buttons, and you look down at her. _What?_

Her eyes find yours, her hands at a button near your navel. She blushes. _You're beautiful._ She tugs on your shirt. _You're_-

Quick. like lightening everything is wiped away. everything is dark and dangerous.

you're not in the hospital and it's not her hands on your stomach, it's Charles. He's ripping your shirt open and he's telling you how nothing.

How wicked.

How.

(_Come back. come back to me. Look at me I'm here.)_

How ugly How nothing How wicked.

His fingers close over your throat. no. no.

Wicked girls get humiliated. Ugly girls get shown.

Are you ugly?

yes. you are so ugly.

(_No. No. You're beautiful. You're incredible. Come back to me._

_I'm so sorry.)_

Shut up shut up shut up.

You're standing. Naked. Tied. Ashamed.

tell everyone that you are nothing.

He'll kill you. He's going to-

Don't touch! Please!

_(okay. Okay. Look. I'll just sit next to you. I'm just going to sit next to you) _

You shudder.

Your _hands._ they're burning. white hot.

Your _hands. _they are aching and you're crying. you're-

sitting. on the floor of the bathroom in the hospital. And your hands are aching. She's cross legged across from you. white faced and silent. Not touching.

Apologize, stupid. You scared her. But your mouth won't move. You're still half in your flashback.

You look at your hands. curled like dead spiders. useless. You hate them. You can't apologize. You can't do anything.

_We need rules._ Her voice makes you jump.

You look down at your half buttoned shirt. _What kind of rules._

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. _For when you get lost. _Her eyes study your face. You wonder if she can see straight into your heart._ For when he tries to take you away from me._

You take a deep breath. Your chest doesn't hurt. _He used to call me beautiful_.

You don't look up, but you can feel her tense.

_Okay. No more beautiful._ She sounds a little heart broken. _What else? _You want to make it better.

How do you make it better?

_There are 17,000 tactile receptors in the human hand._ She jerks up to look at you. It's her fact that you're repeating back to her. _Each finger print is uniquely different. Has it's own way of touching._ her lips twitch, but she stays silent. Okay. That line you paraphrased. But you are sure that it is true. You are sure that the way she touches you is different. She doesn't want to own you.

_He comes for me. He comes into my dreams. I can feel his hand around my throat. _You stare at the ugly tile of the bathroom. Trying to breath. to stay with her. _I don't want his hands anymore. I don't want the way he hurt me. _

You focus on a spot on the floor. You breathe. _But I want your hands. _You close your eyes. _I need them. When he comes._ _Please._

Silence. Just the drip drip of the sink and her slow even breathing. You wait.

_No more beautiful. _She says after a while. Nodding. _And don't let go._

God. You love her.

She scoots closer to you, dipping her shoulder down, and you use your elbows to push yourself standing against her. _What about you. What are your rules?_

She reaches out and starts to do up your buttons again, thinking. _I want you to talk to me. Always. Tell me the things that you are too scared to tell everyone else. Hold onto me. Come home for Christmas. It's the first time in three years that we have a real Christmas Tree. If I'm talking too much. You have to tell me. Maybe I could brush your hair? Keep eating. You have the cutest dimples, and they are just starting coming out. Mother was talking about getting you a math tutor. Could you say yes? Love me...And...And you have to tell me if I make you mad. Are you happy? Are you alright? Be happy with me. please. can you?_

You stare down at her, trying to separate all the parts. She glances up at you, a little breathless. A little embarrassed.

_Yes, _you say and she does the last button and steps back.

_Yes what? That wasn't even rules,_ She blushes. _I just..._

You step forward. _ I heard a rule in there. _You flatten your hand on her chest. It's getting easier.

Everything is getting easier.

_So yes. I'll love you. _Her eyes get big. fill with tears. And you don't hesitate to go on because you know that you've never meant anything as much as you mean what you're about to say. You feel it deeper than anything. _Of course I'll love you. _You say again, and she puts her hand over yours, careful.

_Always._

...

Monica. Constance. Richard. Barry. Ms. Grow. Maura.

All sitting. All silent.

You stare down at it. lime green and white and yellow. happy and cheerful and not one dent.

You scowl. _hey. You suck, can._

Today you got going home gloves. An early Christmas present from Constance. They are fingerless and blue and green striped, with little pads sewn into the palms.

_You think you're something. You're not nothing. _

No one says anything. They've heard you trash talk before.

_You're not nothing can. I could crush you like that. _

You reach out and wrap your hands around the cylinder. You focus all your energy on pressing in. On creating some kind of force. Just one dent and you can go home for Christmas Eve.

You stare at your hand around the sprite can. You think of all the people you will let down if you cannot do this.

You must do this. You will your hand to squeeze. It hurts.

Nothing happens.

.

Maura comes up onto the bed. She climbs up beside you and puts her hand on your back. Between your shoulder blades. _Close your eyes._ The whisper comes right by your ear, giving you goose bumps. You shut your eyes tight. Her hand contracts between your shoulder blades. running in tight circles.

_Listen. _

_when you found there was no safety in that fathers house. you knew there was none anywhere. _

_you are wrong about this. you nurtured your work_

_not yourself. _

_you left the girl wallowing in her own shame_

_and took on nothing. Nowhere._

You don't want to cry in front of all these people, but your hand is starting to shake. And her voice is in your ear. sweet and whispering just for you. Telling you who you are_. _

_but listen. _

_the girl is rising in you. not willing to be left to the silent fingers in the dark. _

_and you are right. _

_she is asking for more than most men are able to give. _

_But she means to have what she has earned. _

_sweet sighs. Safe houses. _

_hands she can trust. _

She presses her lips to your temple. _Hands you can trust. _Her own hand stills on you back.

_Trust me. _

You squeeze. a tiny grunt of effort pushed out of your mouth.

underneath your fingers.

The can gives way.

* * *

**_maura's last words are an adaptation of a poem. lucille clifton's poem "to my friend, jerina"  
the quote from 15 in latin, I made up from Winston Churchill's quote "From diversity, strength"_**

**_There is no way to convey how i feel for all of you. my awe and gratitude and...  
so I won't try. _**

**_Thank you. thank you thank you.  
jane's going home for christmas. _**

**_ .love. _**

**_tc_**


	17. Chapter 17

The house is glowing so brightly that you can see it from the drive.

The car winds up the driveway and sitting next to you, Jane reaches out and puts her hand on your knee. You get warm all over.

_It's beautiful_. Her voice is quiet and full of an emotion that you can't name. You look at her but she's not crying. Just looking out as the car slows to a stop in front of the house and Charlie turns the ignition off.

There's a wreath on the front door. Electric candles in every window. Icicle lights hanging of the roof of the front porch.

You have never seen the house like this before. Not in over a decade at least.

You look at Jane, sitting next to you, the lights of the house reflected in her wide, lovely eyes.

_I get to go in there?_ Her whisper is like a prayer. Like she can't believe it. Like she doesn't dare.

You take the gloved hand that's resting on your knee and she looks at you.

_That's your home.  
_Her face clouds momentarily. She looks down, at Virtus in his cage on her lap. _For how long?_

She's asked this before. You understand why she needs to ask it again. _For as long as you want. _

She frowns. _Virtus too?_

You like that every time she asks about her hamster, she's also asking about bravery.

Can bravery come too? Is bravery allowed?

_Of course Virtus. Virtus is yours and you belong here. _

Now she grins.

You feel like you have passed a test.

.

Charlie comes around to let you out of the car. He pulls open your door and you slide out, your shoes crunching snow under your feet.

You take two steps and then turn to help her out behind you, but Charlie is already bending back. He reaches in and gently pulls Jane out, setting her down on her feet.

For a moment, they look at each other. Jane's eyes big. Maybe scared.

But then Charlie smiles. Steps back and shows her his hands. Like he's seen you do. _Merry Christmas, Ms. Rizzoli_. He gives her a little bow. _Welcome home._

She beams at him. You move back to her and she slides her arm through yours.

_Merry Christmas, Charlie. _

_..._

You come in through the kitchen, and it is warm and sweet and like home.

You can hear your mother in the living room. The deep baritone of your father. They are laughing. You can't remember the last time the house felt like this...full.

Jane lets Marisol hug her. She disappears inside the woman's arms for a moment, and when your cook finally releases her, she looks surprised and flushed…but happy.

_My sweet, sweet, small tiny, _She takes Jane's head in her hands._ Marisol missed you. You got her treats? _

She nods, and you can tell by her eyes that emotion is keeping her from speaking.

_Ah. You have come home for Christmas. It is miracle. Yes. Oh, I make you such a dinner. _

Jane looks up into her face, grinning.

Marisol nods. pinches Jane's cheek gently. Winks at you.

_I make something special. Wait until you see. Something brave. Like you._

You wonder how Jane has done this.

How she has turned your cold empty house into something full of light and warmth.

How she has turned the help into cheerleaders and a support system and...real. live. people.

Marisol hugs you too. _Go! see the tree. _

Jane turns without hesitation and disappears around the corner. Marisol holds you back. Grinning.

_I hide some mistletoe in there for you._ She chuckles at your shocked expression. _What?_ she points a finger._ You kiss her. Be gentle. Open. She kiss you back._

Have these people been here the entire time? You reach out and hug her again. You try to put a lot of things into it. You hope she understands.

You were not ignoring her.

You just never knew she was _there._

You try to hug her hard. A thank you for the past two months. For feeding Jane.

And a thank you for the past five years. For feeding you.

She must understand because she pulls you away and pats your cheek. _Hey, hopeful girl. Marisol does not leave you. _

She pushes you towards the living room and you go. One more look as your cook turns back to the stove. And you round the corner to the living room.

...

Your parents are waiting for you, and you step into your mothers arm immediately before looking around for Jane.

She's standing in front of the tree, staring up at it. mouth open.

_I think she likes it._ Your father's whisper tickles your ear. _She hasn't even looked at the presents._

You go to stand by her, and she looks at you quickly. Her sudden smile makes you weak.

_I've never had a tree before._

You slip your arm around her waist. You let your head fall onto her shoulder.

_It's been a really long time since I've had one too. _

She sighs deep and you love that she can do it without catching her breath. _So it's like a first Christmas. Maybe. For both of us?_

You're melting. You just hope you're able to nod.

_..._

_My face is changing._

You glance up at her reflection in the mirror, but your hands do not stop their work on her hair. Your braiding it before bedtime.

It's true. Though her cheekbones remain prominent and sharp, she's losing the angular, haunted look of someone who is not eating enough. You look back down at her hair, long and silky. Healthy.

_Yes. _You agree, but you don't say anymore. You can feel her eyes on you as you separate her hair into parts.

_Did you like me? Before? Did you love me?_ You know what she's asking. She's asking if she was pretty then. You don't answer right away, considering all the ways that you can tell her she's beautiful without using the exact words

Virtus' wheel makes a squeaking noise as he runs and runs in his cage.

_Yes. I did. The way you look is not why I love you._

What you mean, is that before her beauty was dangerous. It made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, with your feet hanging over.

Before, the line of her body made you feel off balance. Lightheaded. you felt guilty for looking. You were unable to look away.

_I was scared for you. I loved you. And I was scared for you. _

It's as honest as you know how to be.

She looks up. _And now?_

You examine her in the mirror. How do you explain that now, this softer face. These stronger arms and broader shoulders are dangerous to you in a completely different way. They make you ache with desire. _Now I just love you. And I want you close to me._

As honest as you know how to be.

_I want to be safe for you. _Like she can read your mind.

She's looking down at her hands, pressing them against each other experimentally. _I want you to feel like you can trust me. _You're french braiding her hair. You've done it a million times on dolls, on yourself. When she looks up at you in the mirror you almost forget what're you're doing.

_I do. _Your voice is high. _Of course I do._

She looks down into her lap again. You wait. Nervous.

_Maura?_ Your name. From her lips. Could end you. _I want something._

You try to smile what you hope is reassuring. Inside you are pop rocks and diet coke. _Anything. _

She puts her hands flat on the desk. Like she's bracing herself.

_For Christmas. _She almost falters. You squeeze her shoulder, and she redoubles her effort.

_For Christmas...will you be my girlfriend?_ _Will you love me always?_

Oh.

God.

The sound you make is like cheering with your mouth full. There are tears on your cheeks before you can register that your eyes are wet.

You pull her up. Into your arms. Kiss her neck and her jaw. Her lips.

She kisses you back.

_Yes? _You haven't answered and her eyes are nervous. Waiting.  
You nod and nod until you can find your voice. _Yes. For Christmas. For every single day after that. Of course. _She kisses you.

You're over.

Everything is there.

...

Christmas Day. You pull her down the stairs to where your parents are sitting, drinking coffee.

_Go on!_ You kneel beside the tree. _You open your presents! _

She stares at the box you hold out to her. Suspicious like it might be a trap. But you keep it out and you keep smiling, and after a minute, she allows you to put it gently into her hands.

You pull your own present towards you.

Somehow, your parents have found christmas boxes that do not require unwrapping.

You watch Jane lift the tops off a new pair of shoes, off sweaters and t-shirts and a new chess set. She's smiling. Not a bewildered, tentative smile. Not a smile for anyone else.

She's proud, you can tell. Proud that she can lift the tops off of the gifts, and her eyes go round and excited with each new discovery.

_Thank you. Thank you?! _She says it like it might not be enough. As though it doesn't come close to describing how she feels.

You finish with your gifts before her, and you settle on the couch between your mother and your father. Resting your head on your mother's shoulder.

She lifts the last box top off of a brand new set of charcoals and a sketch pad. Her eyes go wide and excited. and then dark and confused.

You sit up. Say her name. She looks around at you.

_I can't hold these. _A monotone statement, but it seems to occur to her for the first time. _I can't draw. _It seems to hurt her. But then, emotion is gone. She looks at Constance. _It's okay. You can take them back._

Your mother shakes her head, smiling. _You'll draw again. Of course you will. _

But her face is changing. Like reality has found can see it happening. She looks up at the three of you with wide eyes.

_You should take it all back. I don't deserve any of this._

You can feel panic rising inside of you like mercury. You'd been afraid of this.

Your parents remain calm. Your father leans forward a bit.

_Why, darling? _His voice is soft and non threatening.

Jane presses her hands together, wincing a little. _I didn't get you anything. I ran away and you worried about me. I let him take me. _She stops, looking down at the paper. _He's dead._

For a moment, it looks like she's going to disappear. Like the past is going to claim her. But she breathes. looks up at your parents.

_I didn't get you anything. _

There is silence. You watch your mother and father have a silent conversation with their eyes. You wonder what they are saying.

Constance sits forward and holds out her hands. _Come here, sweetheart._

Jane looks at you. You nod and scoot over towards your dad. Making room.

Slowly glancing at you the entire time, she comes over to the couch. She lets your mother wrap her up in her arms. You feel your father's arm slide around you too.

_Do you know how long it's been since Richard and I sat on the couch with our daughter?_ You look up at your mother, wide eyed. Jane twists to look up at her too. She shakes her head. Your mother sighs. _It's been a very. very long time. _She pulls Jane a little closer, waiting for her to relax.

_We work hard. We travel a lot._ _We assume that our child knows we love her. _Constance looks at Richard. _But we forget to tell her._

Your father kisses the side of your head. You feel tears in your eyes.

_For Christmas, you brought us home. _She puts her lips to the side of Jane's head and you see her eyes register terror for the tiniest space of second. _You reminded us that even if we say things over the phone and in emails...we still have to come home and show them._

Your father squeezes you tight. _You put our family together for Christmas, little girl._ His voice rumbles through you. _That's the best present we've ever gotten._

You relax against your father's chest, and Jane, watching, lets herself relax into your mother's arms. Her eyes flutter shut. Your mother strokes her hair. Jane's brow furrows.

_Don't pull. _You can tell she's falling asleep.

Your mother looks at you. You smile and she mouths _I love you. _To Jane, she puts her lips to the girl's forehead again.

_Never. _She whispers.

You watch Jane struggle against sleep. She cracks a sleepy eye, looking at you. _Merry Christmas. _

You nod, unable to find your voice before her breathing goes deep and even.

Merry Christmas.

Yes. Yes it is.

* * *

**_"Home is the nicest word there is" -Laura Ingalls Wilder. _**


	18. Chapter 18

You're changing.  
Winter break is drifting by like a long, smooth, lazy river, and the Isles give you the space to find yourself in their house.

You'd thought that Christmas was a one time thing. That after coming home from the hospital, the newness would fade. People would grow tired of you.

But the house stays warm and light and welcoming.

You play chess with Richard whenever you can, pushing the little men forward, more often than not to victory, and he shakes his head.

_How do you do that?_

You shrug. You want to hide that you are pleased by his attention so that he will continue to give it. _I read all the scenarios and then I do the best one._

He looks at you. Leans forward. You do not pull away. _Not everyone can do that, you know._ He says seriously.

No. You did not know that.

You fall asleep in the double bed across from your girlfriend. And you wake up in the double bed across from your girlfriend.

And when she wakes up, she rolls over and looks at you. And she smiles.

And that smile.

It's changing you.

...

Constance tells you at breakfast the day before New Years Eve that your mother wants to come see you.

Several emotions that don't have names or even the beginnings of names explode inside of you. You want to ask several things but you only ask one.

_Why?_

Constance glances at Richard. _She...misses you._ This is not the whole story. You can tell by the way she avoids your eyes for a moment.

You want the whole story.

You say yes.

...

So that afternoon. Angela comes.

You wait in the foyer, all nerves.

Constance comes to stand next to you. _You don't have to do this._ She reaches out and pulls the glove down over your hand for you. Steps back with a half smile. _You look very nice._

You've got all new clothes. a new red sweater and dark denim jeans. matching gloves. You know that Constance spent lunch putting pads into them so you could wear them and match your sweater. You smile at her. _You'll be there the whole time we talk, right?_

She looks up at you. _Yes. Anytime you want to go. You say. alright?_ You nod.

The door bell rings. You bounce by Maura's side as she pulls open the door and there she is.

Older than you remember. Looking distinctly careworn...but there.

It takes all your strength, all your willpower not to throw your arms around her and hang on and never let go.

She's laughing and you're crying, or she's crying and you're laughing. You can't tell. It doesn't matter.

Your mother is there. She's holding onto you. She's there and you're holding her hard around the waist. Real and solid. After two years apart.

_Mama. _You say it into her neck, into her shoulder. You hold on and she lifts you off your feet.

_My girl. My girl. _

When you pull back. There are tears in her eyes that haven't fallen. Your cheeks are wet.

_I missed you. I missed you. _There are a hundred questions you need to ask her. A hundred questions you need the answer to. But at this moment, you can't think of anything except _I missed you. _So you repeat it again and again. Hoping it's enough.

You turn around. Richard and Constance are standing side by side. Their faces blank and unreadable. You look at Maura. You can tell her expression immediately.

Anger. Terror. Equal measures.

Introductions are tense. Constance smiles at you, then fixes her ice blue gaze on your mother. You feel her hesitate. You want to tell her that this woman saved you. She saved you.

Richard refuses to shake her hand. Just gestures that you should go into the sitting room.

You lead the way.

.

_I can't stay long._ It's the first things she says. Its the first thing anyone says. You feel your stomach squirm.

Maura puts her hand on your knee.

_I can't stay long I just came to see about you. I just...I just came to see about you. _

_What took you so long_. It's out of your mouth before you could think about it.

Your mother puts up her hand. _I didn't know if I should come. All those things...on the news...I didn't know if you'd want to see me. _

You knew it! You knew it wasn't true. You knew there was no way that your mother would give you away just to keep herself happy. She's your mother! She loves you!

You breathe a happy sigh. Smiling. _I knew they were lying._ Your voice is fierce.

Out of the corner of your vision, you see Constance's eyes close.

_I knew the news was wrong. I knew you wouldn't do that to me. _Apologize, you idiot. You're tripping over your words, trying to get them out before she disappears. Apologize!

_I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted to. Everyday. I wanted to. But you kept talking about Frankie loving school. Tommy was learning to walk. I wanted to be good. I wanted to be good for you. Not make you worry. _

Maura's hand is tightening on your knee. Your mother's face is expressionless. You push on. Trying to make everyone see.

_But everything is alright now. I'm alright now. look!_ You hold up your hands. Fingers straight. Proud.

Your mother winces. _Oh, God...I never meant for this to happen to you. _

You look at her. _ I'm alright now. I'm alright now, Ma. And we don't have to wait until next year for us to be a family. We can be a family right now!_

Silence.

Something is wrong. You look form your mother. To Constance. to Richard. Maura.

Only those green eyes meet yours.

_Ma? We can be a family now. _You say it so it's not a question. So that she'll agree.

She doesn't say anything.

_Right? _And now, you're asking anyone who will answer you. _Right?_

_I might have to go to Jail._ Her words are so soft that at first you think you've misheard. But she looks up at you and says them again. stronger. _I might have to go to Jail._

This doesn't make any sense.

_No. _You almost laugh. It's laughable. _No! we'll just explain that you didn't..._You can't say it. _We'll just explain that you thought you were protecting me. It was a mistake. I never told you. You didn't know._

Angela looks down into her lap. She's wringing her hands. That's something you can almost do. You can almost wring your hands now without any pain. But you don't because, it's a sign of nerves. It's a sign of guilt. You are neither of those things.

_Ma?_ _We can just explain. Right?_ You look at Richard. He finally meets your eyes.

His face is misery.

_You have to understand. _You mother's voice is just above a whisper. _You have to understand what it was like. What people were threatening me with. _

You look at her.

_You have to understand that they were going to take all of you. They were saying I couldn't provide. That the environment wasn't safe. They were going to take the baby. I couldn't...There was nothing else I could have..._

You shake your head like this might be a dream. You don't understand.

_You were hungry. All the time. Frankie was hungry the baby was always screaming. I tried to do what was best. I asked for help. All they said was that they would take you from me. _  
She runs her hands through her hair. You want to comfort her. You don't know why she's telling you this. what is has to do with you.

_Ma! I was gone from you. But I'm back now. It's okay! _You look at Constance, but she doesn't look at you. Her hands are clenched into fists in her lap, her jaw working like she's trying not to cry. Like she's trying not to jump up and make a scene. You turn back to the woman in front of you. Your mother.

Try again! Tell her! _Ma. You didn't know. And I'm okay now. _

_You have to understand. _Like she can't hear you. _You have to understand what he offered me. What he kept giving..._

Offering. You sit back abruptly. _What?_ So soft that maybe you didn't say it. Maybe you just thought it. _what?_

She looks up. _I got laid off. You didn't have shoes. I couldn't afford to send Frankie to school. The baby would not stop screaming. CPS was leaving notices saying you needed your own room and bed and winter coat and a lunchbag..._ She's picking up speed, her hands back in her hair. _You don't know what it was like. You don't know how overwhelmed..._

You hold onto one thing. The one thing. You hold onto it.

_You didn't know, Ma. You didn't know what he was doing. _

She looks up at you. Her eyes are just like yours.

_I knew. _

.

The world might be flat.

In ancient times, Maura says, They believed that the world was flat. And if you went too far.

You would just fall off.

.

Next to you, Maura is crying. Big silent tears rolling down her cheeks but she doesn't move to wipe them. Her hand stays tight on your knee. She's looking at her mother. Begging her silently to make it stop.

But you don't want it to stop. You want to know.

_You sold me?_

Your mother's eyes are huge. _I tried to protect you. I tried to keep you from the system. Give you a chance. _

_Charles said he would feed you. Send you to school. Buy you new clothes. _

(look at you in the shower. Send you to the ER. Tie you up when you were bad)

_He said he would take care of you. _

(take. care. of you.)

_When did you know?_ You see Constance's hand tighten in her husband's. You see him squeeze back. Holding her at bay. You love him. in that moment. Because you have to know

_Your school called. In the middle of your eighth grade year. _Your mother looks up at you. _Charles moved you to a new district for high school._

You close your eyes. Maura's hand slides up your back to your neck and holds on. _You have to understand. I had to think about the family. about the boys. I had to think about our family. _

Her family. Not yours_. _

_What did he give you. For me._

She hangs her head. _A new job._

Silence.

_Money? _You say it so low that for a second you think she didn't hear you. But then.

_Yes. _

_._

In ancient times. They thought the world was flat.

They laughed at Christopher Columbus and told him that if he kept sailing. He would just fall off the edge into Oblivion. Into nothingness. You curl your hands into fists.

You are falling off the edge.

Into oblivion.

.

_Why did you come here? _It takes a certain amount of physical effort to get this question past your lips. You feel sick to your stomach. You feel like you are going to be violently ill.

You feel absolutely nothing at all.

_I came to ask you. Not to testify when we go to court. _

You close your eyes again. So you don't have to see her when she tells you why.

You know why.

_My boys. _Your brothers. _I've worked so hard. I've worked so hard for them. We're just starting to get on our feet._

Constance makes a noise. You turn and look at her. She looks as though she is in physical pain. Her eyes meet yours.

_Who owns me?_ Your voice is loud in your ears.

_No one_. She says quietly.

_Not you? Not you and Richard now? It's not your decision if she goes to jail or not? If I testify? Would you make me? _You sound a little hysterical. You don't care.

_It is no one's decision but yours. _

Constance. Constant. Like a home, if you could just let her be.

You stand, and beside you Maura stands too. Like she's attached. _I want to go._

Angela moves towards you. _No. Janie. Let me! _She's reaching for you.

And this time Constance really does pull out of her husband's grasp. She moves faster than you would have thought possible, and her hand closes around Angela's outstretched wrist, squeezing hard enough to make your mother wince.

_You put one hand on her and you'll never see any of your children again. Ever. _ Her voice matches her eyes.

Deadly.

You look at Richard. _I want to go. I want to-_ There's too much pressure in the room. You are going to unravel.

He nods and you manage to make it out into the hallway before your knees start to wobble.

Maura is there. She is always there. pressing you agains the wall gently. Guiding you to the floor.

You can hear Constance's voice rising behind you.

_You think that you can just come in here and ask her to ignore the past three years of you not wanting her. To ignore the fact that you don't want her now._

Whatever you mother says back, makes Constance laugh derisively. _You think she would rather fancy things over her family? You think she would choose any of the things we got her over spending time with her brothers? If you think that. You are more deranged. more deluded than I thought. And you don't know that child at all. _

You pull your knees up to your chest and Maura comes with them. Leaning in.

_I know you want to run. _She can read your mind. she kisses the side of your mouth. _But no running. No more running away. I know it hurts. I know it hurts so bad that you think you are going to stop breathing. To hear that. From her._ I know.

You're shaking. Your entire body is shaking and you don't know how to make it stop. You stare at your shoes. You don't look up at her. _But there are people here who want you. _She flushes. _I want you. I'll fight for you._her hand is on your face. lifting it. _I'll stand up. for you. Always._

You want to tell her that you will do all of those things and more for her. You can't find the words.

You take your hand and press it to her heart.

She smiles. _Come upstairs with me. _It's not a question, but she's asking you to trust her. _Don't run._

She dips her shoulder, so you can use your elbows to push yourself to your feet, but instead, you wrap your arms around her neck.

She pulls you up, and when you are both standing you kiss her.

You kiss her and you put your hands on her hips and pull her closer.

And even though your hands twinge with a bit of pain, she gasps, and whimpers into your mouth. And it's totally worth it.

.

You are crying.

A new year is coming and you can pick up silverware now. You can hold Virtus' water bottle long enough to fill it and put it back in it's place against his cage. You can wash your own hair.

But you have no real family.

It's almost midnight when you get out of your bed and cross the room to slide in next to her.

There's a dull sort of ache in your chest from the day that only goes away when you are near her.

She doesn't really wake up when you pull the covers back, but once you are in bed, she rolls towards you. sliding her arm around your waist.

_Stay. _Her whisper is sweet. drenched in sleep. _Don't run. _

You use your fingers to smooth her hair back from her face. You kiss just below her ear and she mumbles happily. pulling you closer.

_Can I hold onto you?_ You settle down. Sure that she is too asleep to really register your question.

But she finds your fingers in the dark. Intertwining them under the covers.

_Always_

* * *

**_This is too long. But you all deserved at least the beginnings of answers._**

Thank you. thank you thank you. for allowing me to play with these characters this way.  
Your comments humble me. 

**_gratitude and internet hugs.  
a million times over. _**

**_tc.  
_**


	19. Chapter 19

She stops.

Everything.

Smiling and laughing. Talking to her therapist. Reading. Working on her hands. Watching TV. Eating. Sleeping.

She just...stops.

What she doesn't stop, is holding on. Like her mother's confession has tunred back the clock and She's seven again. Scared of the dark. scared to be alone. scared to shut her eyes. You can hear her crying in the shower.

Sometimes, you push the door open and sit on the edge of the sink. You know she can see you through the distorted glass of the shower door, but she doesn't say anything.

You sing. Anything that pops into your head. Just wanting to reassure her that you are there. And when the water shuts off, you slip out the door.

At first you're not sure that she likes this new ritual. But later, when she comes to you to help her button her jeans, she leans in and kisses your cheek. _Thank you. _

You can tell by the way her lips linger near your skin that she considers saying more, and then thinks better of it.

She sits on the end of the couch. and stares at her gloved hands. When you sit down next to her and take one hand in yours she looks up. through you. Not at you.

_Come home._ You say quietly.

She focuses on your face for a minute. Then away. _Where is that?_

You kiss her fingers. _It's here. With me. _

She doesn't answer.

.

You're scared about going back to school. Scared of what people will say. And what it will do to this new, vulnerable, broken girl.

She'll only eat if you're touching her. Only sleep if you're next to her and you lie for hours in your bed, pulling your fingers through her hair, whispering over and over again how worth it. how wonderful. how strong.

She curls into you. She closes her eyes. You can tell she's trying to make herself stop being.

Even if she doesn't say anything. even if her lips don't move over the words, you can still tell she's thinking them. You know what she's saying.

_I am nowhere. _

_I do not exist. _

You hold her tight, even when her body goes heavy with sleep. If you let go, her eyes open. wild and confused. Looking for you.

She falls asleep on the couch after forty eight straight hours of staying awake and immediately she has a nightmare. Your mother is there instantly. shushing her. Pulling her into her arms.

Jane wakes with a yelp. _Mama. _She looks around.

And then she just cries. And cries.

Your mother holds her, kissing the side of her head, whispering to her. And after a while. Like everything else.

She stops.

...

Your parents are in the kitchen when you come down looking for a drink. You half push open the swinging door, but you stop at the sight.

Your father, arms around your mother. Her head tucked under his chin. She's crying.

She's crying and he's rubbing up and down her back, swaying them back and forth. Like a dance. Like earlier, but slow and soft and sweet. They're in love.

_It's alright. It's okay. We're here now. _He says this again and again. gentle. _We're here now. _

She pulls away from him and turns towards the sink. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Trying to collect herself. _I just. _Her shoulders tense and square. She looks out the window at nothing. _I think of all the time we missed. I think of all the hours she spent alone here. By herself. _

She turns to look at him, and her blue ice eyes are melting. _Are we better? Are we better than that woman? Is the way we hurt her just...different?_

You want to push open the door and run into her arms and hug her and tell her that even when they were far away and you were lonely. Even when they weren't there to tuck you in. You didn't doubt that they loved you. You never wondered.

And they came. When you needed them the most.

You want to push the door open and run over to her, but your father is already crossing to embrace her. He tilts her head up to look at him, and he kisses her. _We can't change how we were. _ He sounds regretful. He sounds like nothing will make him sadder than this truth. _But we can change where we go from here. _

They lean into each other. Your mother breathes in deeply. Like she could take his strength into her own body.

_..._

Upstairs in her room, Jane is watching Virtus run and run on the wheel in his cage. She cocks her head when you open the door, so you know she's heard you, but she doesn't turn.

_Jane? _You can tell by the slant of her shoulders that she's upset.

_He runs and runs and doesn't get anywhere. _Her voice has tears in it. Normal for the past few days. _He runs and runs and never gets anywhere ever. Why does he do that?_ She turns to face you. _Doesn't he know? How can he not know? Is he just too stupid to realize that he's not moving._ You take a step forward but she takes a step backwards. Her voice is rising.

_How could he not know? He's stupid. He should know by now that nobody wants him. _She turns back to the cage, and you notice that she pulls her hands into fists without any hesitation. _You're so stupid. How could you not have known. How.  
_You hear your parents in the doorway behind you. She hears them too and she whirls. eyes wide. chest heaving. She wants to run. You can see it in her eyes.

Your father moves into the room, and her eyes narrow. _Hey_. He puts his hands out. _Hey. It's alright. _

She makes a noise. stepping back again. _Nothing is alright. _Bitter. You expect your father to reassure her. But instead he hesitates. He glances at your mother. He nods. _You're right. _

Her hands fall down by her side. She looks at him. He nods.

_It's not alright._ Her eyes fill with tears. He takes a step towards her again and this time she doesn't back away.

She sits down on the floor and puts her hand in her hair. After a moment, you come and sit down next to her, resting your head on her shoulder.

When you look around, your parents are sitting on the floor too.

_It's hard. _It seems to be the most that she can get out. You still love her for trying.

_Yes._ your mother rests her head on your father's shoulder. _Yes. it is._

...

When you pull up in front of the precinct her eyes get wide. Officer Korsak is waiting on the steps outside, and when your car pulls to a stop, he waves.

She lets you zip up her coat before sliding out of the car.

He smiles when he sees her, gesturing her over. _Hey there, Jane._

She smiles shyly up at him. _Officer Korsak. _

He shakes his head, pulling out a new badge. Handing it to her. _Detective, now. Became official the week before Christmas.  
_You come to stand next to her and she slips her arm through yours. You squeeze reassuringly. _Congratulations._

He grins. _You want to come in?_

Her eyes go wide, and shiny. You feel yourself start to relax. This surprise was the right idea. _In the precinct?_ _I can come in?_

Korsak chuckles, nodding. _Yeah. _He pauses and glances at you. You nod. _Maura said you were having a little bit of a hard time. She said you might like a tour. _

She looks at you and you blush, more nervous that anything else. _Can Maura come too?_

Korsak nods, _Of course. _He turns. _Come on._

.

She loves it. She loves the bullpen and the interrogation rooms and holding cells. Korsak shows her his handcuffs and his gun and Jane runs her fingers over the shiny silver, but does not take her eyes off the firearm.

_You shot Charles with that._ Not a question.

Korsak looks at her hard. _Yes. _

That is the end of that.

The other officers and detectives all greet her cordially, and she flushes happily. Not one of them reaches to shake her hand, and you love them and you love Korsak for saying whatever he said. By the time Korsak shows you the workout area and the rec room, Jane's face is more animated than you've seen it in days.

You stand in the doorway while he explains the machines and their exercises. You can see her sucking up the information like a sponge. _Here. try this one. _He says helping her up onto the leg extension machine. He starts the weight light and she nearly kicks the leg rests off the chair.

He belly laughs. She looks at him, unsure how to react.

_You're strong. _He leans against the machine looking at her. _You're real strong. That's good. _

Jane looks up at him and you catch your breath.

She can hear him. She believes.

_Is it hard? _She looks down at her hands. _Being a police officer. _

__He looks down at her, nodding. _Yes. But I think that's true with most things. _He rubs the back of his neck. Grins at her. _Things are hard. Things get hard. _

__He pauses...then shakes his head. _But you just keep going. _

__She stares at him, and he nods after a moment. Like he knows.

_You'd make one hell of a police officer, I bet. _He helps her down off the machine. _Let's see if we can find you a BPD t-shirt around here..._

Jane takes your hand as you leave the room. her hand squeezes yours. Really squeezes. You almost cry.

...

The music is so loud you can hear it from the front porch. You look at each other curiously before pushing the door open. The music rolls from the living room out into the hall way, and for a moment you just stand side by side, listening. Your mother's laugh carries down the corridor, and you slide your hand into Jane's, stepping forward.

.

Constance and Richard are dancing. She's wearing a midnight blue dress and high heeled shoes, and he's got dress pants on and a button down shirt. You stand in the doorway to the sitting room, watching silently.

Jane's hand contracts a little in yours.

Your father twirls your mother and as she spins she catches sight of you standing in the doorway.

_My girls,_ she says happily. Jane tenses at the term of endearment. _How was your outing?_ You father dips her, and she giggles like a teenager. Jane looks at you with wide eyes. You roll yours.

The song ends and your parents stop dancing slowly. Like they are disappointed.

You father turns to Jane. _How did it go?_

Jane doesn't answer. But she smiles and nods. He smiles back. _Good._

A new song starts up and he holds out his hand to her. Asking for a dance. She stares at it, confused.

They stand like that for a long time. Almost a third of the song. Your father reaching out. Jane inspecting his hand. And then finally, _finally, _she puts her hand in his, and he tugs her gently towards him.

At first she seems afraid. Her movements awkward and hesitant. But as she realizes that he has no ulterior motive beside dancing, she begins to loosen up. She glances at you. You give her the thumbs up. She smiles.

Your mother comes and wraps her arm around your waist. Kissing the side of your head.

_Have I told you recently how amazing you are._

You sigh against her. _You might have mentioned it._ For a moment you watch your father and your girlfriend dance.

You look up at your mother. _You never hurt me. _She jumps at your words. Looks around at you. You smile. _Sometimes I was lonely...I missed you._ You glance away. _But I always knew you loved me. I never thought you didn't care._

You don't have to tell her that you overheard her conversation the other night. She knows.

You don't ave to tell her that what you just said is the truth. Or complete the thought and tell her that she came when you really needed her. You don't have to tell her that you are glad glad glad that she is your mother. You wouldn't want any other one.

She knows.

In the middle of the room, Richard dips Jane back over his arm and she laughs.

She laughs.

The world is beautiful.

...

She's on top of you.

You try to come to terms with this one undeniable fact, but it's like you have a mental block. You cannot comprehend.

She's on top of you. And she's kissing you.

Your hands pulls at her back. grabbing at her t-shirt.

In some far away part of your brain, some part that is not connected to the heat building in your stomach, your feel like you should stop. You do not want a repeat of what happened three months ago. You don't think you could bear it if you scared her away now.

You say her name. pull away. She pulls back at once. _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _

Your hands tighten around her waist. _No. _You talk quickly, trying to keep her with you. _No. It feels...God...no. I just don't want to hurt you. When you do that...I feel..._ You flush. _I just don't want to hurt you. _

Her eyes are open wide, and you can't tell if it's confusion or surprise.

She leans down slowly. Her lips graze yours. Barely there. _I'm not afraid of you._

You whimper. You cannot help it.

_Maura?_ Another whimper. She is everything. _Put your hands on my back. _

You flatten your hands against the small of her back, shivering. But she shakes her head. _No. _You look at her. She looks back. Calm.

_No?_ You pull your hands away. She almost smiles.

_Put your hands. On my back. _

For a genius, it takes you a long long time to understand what she means. She's watching your face, and when you understand. When she sees you understand. she' nods.

Slowly. Carefully so as not to wake yourself up if this is a dream. You slide your hands up, under her shirt. pressing against her back.

She sighs and oh God. She rests her head on your shoulder. pressing closer.

You trace up to her shoulders and back down. Again.

You can feel her scars. feel how they twist and turn under you hands. a long, awful roadmap to a world you cannot even begin to imagine.

But she is also impossibly soft. Incredibly warm and lovely.

She kisses your neck and you your sigh comes out half of a moan. You feel her smile.

_Is that for me? _You nod. You don't trust your voice. She nuzzles closer. You squeeze your eyes shut. _Maura?_

_Anything. _It's out without your consent. It doesn't make sense. But it's still true.

_Thank you. _

You force your eyes open. And it's worth it, because she smiles at you. full wattage.

_I love you. _ She snuggles down against you, and you pull her closer.

Your hands. Her skin.

_I love you too. _

* * *

**_don't worry. we got a while to go yet.  
You've made me cry with your comments again.  
I am humbled on a daily basis by you guys._**

**_much love. _**

**_tc. _**


	20. Chapter 20

this family is saving you.

you're not sure about a lot of things these days, but this, at least, you know.

it's the day before school starts and you are at war with yourself. you want to stay safe in this house and away from the rest of the world forever. you're not sure you can handle the faces of other people if their eyes are full of judgement. or worse, pity.

it is that emotion that you could not bear.

constance and richard buy you a tablet computer. touch sensitive, you can write with your finger. you practice your name over and over again, sitting on the couch with maura tucked into your side. encouraging.

_Your teachers all know that you are going to use this. At least until you can control a pencil._ richard shows you how to spin the top around and make it a real computer. _you can type or write, though, your therapist would rather you wrote...work your fingers._

when constance is not looking he shows you where the games are, and grins at you like a little kid. _good for your pt. _he murmurs. _all in the name of medicine._

_thank you. _you almost call him dad.

.

you sit with marisol watching her cook and listening to her talk to the food.

She kneads bread the way a mother would rock a child, and she talks. sometimes you are not sure if she's speaking to you or if she simply has no inner monologue. it doesn't matter though, you listen to every word. hang on them.

_You know the way tomatoes and olive oil go _she presses her hands together before going back to arranging them on the platter. _and when you put in your mouth you taste something..._she closes her eyes.

you nod, and she smiles. _that is how you were made for that girl. without you are un complete. like just green leaves. _she holds up the basil. _nothing alone._

you grin at her, but the smile slips from her face as she studies you. _you came starving. marisol is not a doctor but she knows._ you tense.

_you came starving. and you cannot have anything if you are starving. _

she looks at you, to see if you understand, and you shake your head, because you don't. marisol has a way of talking about food. And not talking about food.

you are not sure which one this is.

she clucks. _oh sure. food gets you talking. you can learn books from the way a person eats. you know this._

you did not know that. you lean closer. like she's telling you a secret. watching as she presses a basil leaf into the middle of each red circle. she lifts one and hands it to you.

it tastes like the first drop of rain.

_food shows the people who are for you. the people who will rescue you. you cannot have anything without it. _she hands you another. you don't refuse.

_love, family, happiness, wealth. you cannot have these things if you are starving. _

she leans down close to you. you don't pull away. marisol would never hurt you.

_there's more than one way to be starving, small tiny. _her eyes are dark like yours. _did you know this?_

you look up, through the doorway where constance and maura are watching tv. her head on her mother's shoulder. constance's hand in her daughter's hair.

oh yes. this, you knew.

...

_when are you leaving? _constance sits alone in her study, reading. she hasn't heard you come in and she jumps at your voice.

_what?_ you can't tell if she's heard the question or if she's so caught off guard that she needs you to repeat yourself. either way, it doesn't matter. you know the look of leaving better than anyone.

_when are you leaving? _for a moment it looks like she is going to deny it. but no:

_next week. only for three days. i told them we wouldn't...that we couldn't stay away any longer. they understood of course. _she's rushing now. trying to convince you. _and we'll come right back. _trying to convince herself. _we'll come right back to you. and marisol is going to be here the whole time. and we'll call. everyday. _she presses her hands together. _everyday. _

you know the look of leaving better than anyone.

the look of leaving, and the look of fear.

but it's not you that you are asking for.

_she's going to miss you. _

your sentence makes constance cringe. makes her look away so you don't see her pain. you can see her try to be strong. you can see her fail.

she looks back and there's a question she wants to ask written all over her face. Her eyes search yours, trying to find the answer without asking. she doesn't know how to ask. it is about you and it is not about you. she cannot find the right words.

slowly. because you're not sure this is right. because it feels right, but you are still scared. slowly you reach out and take her hand. _she's going to miss you._ she looks down at your hand over hers. the glove you're wearing today is grey and purple stripes. she has made you over fourteen pairs. you know she has more that she just hasn't finished yet.

your mother has not made you anything in almost five years. maybe more.

she spent half her child's life on the other side of the world. you make your hand squeeze.

_it's not the same._

constance's eyes open wide and she looks at you. and maybe she is not a mind reader as much as she understands what you need in the moment. maybe that is a skill that you have too. if you work at it. maybe you can be what other people need to hear.

_it's not the same. _you say it again. you mean it. you don't smile, because it's not a happy occasion, but you hope your face is soft. you hope that she believes you.

you hope she can tell...that you are gong to miss her too.

she grips your hand. hard. you wince a little and she lets go apologetically. you wish she hadn't.

_do you have any idea the kind of child you are. _she understands what you want and she puts her hand on your cheek. she smiles. _do you know? how special you are?_

you press against her hand. like a cat might. it feels nice. you think maybe, in another life, you would have been affectionate.

_no. _it is not fishing.

it is just the truth.

_._

later. when you see constance take maura aside. when you see her talk through her tears. when you see her take her daughter's face in her hands and pull it to her lips for a kiss.

when you see maura wrap her arms around her mother's waist and nod, her own eyes a little wet.

that's maybe when you think.

you are saving each other.

...

you slip into bed beside her that night and she rolls to face you, eyes awake and alert.

_hey there. _she always seems like she knows that you are coming. she always seems happy to see you. you scoot closer and she reaches out for you, waiting for you to nod before she pulls your head to her shoulder. _scared? about tomorrow?_

you nod, but you don't want to say it out loud. that would make it true. _everyone will look at me._

you feel her rise and fall with a sigh. you wait for reassurance, but it doesn't come. instead. _Yes. they will._

you press against her. feel her tighten and relax. _i can't sleep._

she rolls to face you. head to head, and when she kisses you your eyes fall shut at how soft she is.

but then she rolls away and you are empty. _what._

she pads away to the closet, and you sit up, looking after her curiously. _i'm sorry._ it doesn't seem like the right thing to say in this situation but you don't know what other words would match.

she reappears in a button down shirt and shorts. hair messy and in her face. oversized buttons all down her front. she pauses at the side of the bed, asking, and when you nod enthusiastically, her smile is sudden and spectacular.

_you can't sleep so we're going to practice. you need to work on your fine motor skills._

she lies down on her back. looks at you. _come up here._

your brain is suddenly nothing. you've forgotten the meaning of words. _what?_

she smiles again, takes your hand and tugs it forward. on to the top button on her chest. _come up here. _it is not a question.

you do not want it to be.

you straddle her. reach out. focus on concentrating. _fine motor skills._ you grin up into her face. _whats under here?_

she smiles. closes her eyes. you do not imagine the blush that creeps up her neck.

_fine motor skills...just me._

_._

you're not sure when the challenge changes. when it becomes focusing on your fingers and not the pale smooth skin that you are revealing with each unfastened button.

you're not sure when her breathing becomes shallow or when she starts to move. slowly and consistently underneath you.

on the last button, your fingers are burning. your wrists ache.

your eyes burn and the button swims out of focus. _i can't_.

her hands come up to your face. _jane._ sweet. imploring.

you shake your head. _i can't._

_jane. _firmer this time. you look up into her face. her expression makes your heart. stop.

she pulls you down. _kiss me. _

you do.

...

she's coming apart underneath you and you have never seen anything more beautiful. her hands reach out, blindly, looking for something to hold onto. anything.

you don't stop. but your take her hand in yours. palm out. and you kiss it.

she whimpers. says your name. she flexes and her eyes shut tight.

holding back.

you don't want her to hold back.

you are tired of holding back.

you kiss her hand again, and put it firmly on the back of your neck. you bend to kiss her jaw and her other hand slides into your hair.

when you imagined this in your head. you imagined that it would hurt. you imagined that even maura, sweet and gentle and as careful with you as if you were made of glass, would be unable to hold back from taking what she wanted. if this was what she wanted.

isn't that what everyone does in the end. takes what they want without any thought to others.

isn't that what he always did? took what he wanted from you.

left you starving?

her hand contracts on the back of your neck and pulls you from the past. you stop breathing when you look down at her. she's barely breathing either. brow tight. gasping.

the hand in your hair tightens and you tense. saddened. but ready.

her eyes open, hazy and dark.

you know what that look means. electricity shoots up your spine. you're buzzing.

her eyes find yours. she bites her lip and you fall a little.

_don't worry, sweet girl. i won't pull._ you shiver against her and her eyes flutter shut at the sensation, but they open and focus on yours again. determined. you cant look anywhere else. _do you want me to stop?_

tell her no. tell her you have never wanted anything more than what's happening right now. tell her that you would do anything for her. tell her that you are starving. you tell her

_no...please... _

and nothing else.

she tugs on the back of your neck and you obey. bending down to press your lips to hers again. pressing yourself harder against her and she moans into your mouth and you are full.

_i-i.._you are all lowercase letters and fractured sentences.

she is iambic pentameter and rhombus shaped sounds.

there is no possible way that you will be able to measure up.

but you do not want her to stop. oh god. you do not want her to stop.

she builds and builds, like a staircase that doesn't end, and you think that eventually there must be a moment where she simply cannot build anymore. when she begins to fall.

your mouth is on the side of her mouth and you feel her bite her lip. feel her turn to meet your eyes. in the darkness, with her hair like that. with her hands where they are. with her legs wrapped around your hips.

she is divine. nothing short of transcendent

if there is a god. if god exists and he has kept you alive for a reason then this must be your reason.

this beautiful. looking up at you.

_i am. so close._

a whisper. a thousand questions and a confession.

i am close should i stop do you want me do you want us are you uncomfortable am i doing this right are you happy could you love me?

love me.

could you love me? please. love me.

there is one button left on her shirt. just below her navel. you pull away from her, sitting up. she catches a breath in her chest. almost devastated.

frowning, you take the to pieces of shirt in your hands. fingers pressing on the little plastic button. willing it through the fabric.

she drops her hands and you push the shirt down her shoulders. she watches your face. almost scared. her hands creep up you sides. under your tank top. _can i? _you nod.

with one finger, you trace down the middle of her body. she jerks reflexively, eyes closed.

_can i?_ one breath out. an entirely new question.

slowly. her hands on your back. pulling at your shoulder blades. you bend down and kiss her collarbone. her fingers contract and she shudders. holding off. _oh god._ her whisper is hoarse. _oh my god. please. _

you press down. all of you. against her. your hands find her hair. your lips find hers. you nod.

.

she surrenders.

immediately.

she falls apart underneath you. she needs you. she wants you.

she trusts you.

you hold on. awed and overwhelmed and elated and _terrified. _

she sighs and tenses. relaxes and tenses and sighs again. _don't. don't. don't let me go._ she has to work to form the sentence. you have never seen anything more exquisite in your life.

tell her! you press against her. holding on. trying to work past the lump in your throat.

_please. don't...let me... _she's getting heavy.

tell her. now. tell her.

_never. _not good enough. more. she's saving you. she's building you. you're nothing with out her. tell her. kiss her. hold onto her. tell her!

_I love you. I won't ever let you fall. _

* * *

**_..._**

**_"Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could."  
-Louise Edrich_**

**_i love you guys. honestly.  
all of you_**

**_tc_**


	21. Chapter 21

You mastered words at six.

Full sentences and proper grammar. Your mother loved to show it off at parties. Your father would lift you up and say, _give her any word! Chances are she can define it for you._

But you wake up on the morning that Jane goes back to school and your entire vocabulary has left you.

.

You used to know words like you know your name. You could call on anyone of them at any time and they would come. You were a wordsmith. You left people speechless.

But, now they are lethargic. They have to be pulled from you and when they come they are inadequate.

You roll over to look at her and she is still asleep, tank top off her shoulder and hands above her head like she's fallen asleep mid dance. Words get stuck on your tongue. They refuse.

All you can do is look at her. Trying to convince yourself.

Somewhere in the way her fingers trailed along your hip. Sometime between her lips on your collarbone and your hands in the small of her back. Between the gasp as it hit you and the way she held on and watched you like you were the most wonderful, most precious thing she had.

Somewhere last night. When everything was dark and smooth and warm.

You lost the definition of words

…

…

…

Fear. From the Miriam-Webster two thousand and twelve definition.

An unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.

Fear.

_(Get in the car. Buckle your seatbelt. She can buckle her own now, given twenty or thirty seconds. You like the way she smiles when she's finished. Proud and happy, bashful, like she knows it's small. You grin at her, turn and look out the window. Feel the swoop in your stomach and the weird metallic taste in your throat. Reach out. Hold her hand. You can feel her holding back) _

Fear. Revised.

The car pulls up to the school and she gasps because there are maybe fifteen reporters leaning against the low wall outside the school. They are on the sidewalk, public property, drinking coffee. Chatting. Three or four cameras rest on the shoulders of some of the men. Like giant birds of prey. There are microphones in back pockets. You pull up the school and she gasps and presses herself back, against the door that faces away. Her eyes get wide and she stops breathing, and her hands curl into fists. She makes a sound like stepping on linoleum in wet shoes, and then she squeezes her eyes shut. tight.

Fear.

.

Words are nothing. You don't need them. You break them and reshape them into sounds.

Shhh against her cheek as you pull her close. The windows of the car are tinted, but you can see the attention sharpen palpably as the car stops.

You don't need it's okay or I'm here or don't cry.

Your hands on her back say okay, say I've got you, say trust me.

You hum you love her against her shoulder. You can feel her breathe it back. No time wasted finding the right verbs.

You are much, much more than any action word could articulate. Something would be lost.

She leans into you immediately and for two full minutes you just sit in the back of the car. Holding onto each other.

Charlie gets out of his car and at once the cameras are higher. The microphones come out. The hair gets patted. He walks around to your door and he opens it, bending down.

He doesn't need stay close and walk quickly.

He doesn't need I've got you or…hold on or… I will protect you. He pulls Jane out and fold her into him. He shepherds you out front, free hand firm on your shoulder. They are yelling.

The three of you stay silent.

His scowl says back off. He hunches over Jane and it says, touch her, I'll hurt you.

The way he stands at the front door of the school and watches you down the hall says and entire sentence for you.

He'll be right there when you get out.

You wave.

He grins.

…

…

…

Strength. From the two thousand and thirteen publication of the Oxford Dictionary.

1. Strength is the power to resist attack; impregnability. 2. Strength can also be defined as the power to resist strain or stress; durability. 3. In some cases strength can refer to the ability to maintain a moral or intellectual position firmly.

Strength.

_(Oh, my god, did you see? She's wearing gloves. I bet that's because her hands are so mangled that she's super embarrassed and doesn't want us to see. If I were her I probably would have died. Or I would make them home school me and I'd never come out of my house. You know the guy she was staying with? The news said he would tie her up in the basement like a dog. With chains, you know? I bet that's why she always wore long sleeves. So we couldn't see that he was like…marking her. That's why she was never at lunch. He would take her home for his pleasure. The news said. It's true.) _

Strength. (Revised)

Everyone is looking. Most people pretend that they are not looking, but some of them do not pretend. Some of them stare openly. At her hands, incased in her favorite pair of gloves, green and blue striped. At her face when she's walking towards her. At her profile when they pass her and her back when they are behind. They stare with wide eyes and open mouths. And then, when she is at a safe distance. They whisper. The polite ones whisper. Some don't even bother to lower their voices and their speculation hits you like an animate object. You don't know if you hate them more because some of their stories are outlandish or because most of them are true. She stops with you at your locker. She puts her hand on your elbow and you turn to look at her. Her eyes are wide and concerned. She's concerned. For you.

Strength.

.

You were always a very solitary child.

By eight years old, you learned that any friendships you made would be broken within the year, as you boarded a plane for a place that your companion couldn't pronounce.

You learned quickly to pretend like you didn't care until you didn't.

You read voraciously, and your friends had names like Ishmael and Huckleberry and Agamemnon.

You did not need the type of friends who would breathe and chat and laugh…and leave. It seemed impractical.

It was impractical.

But in gym, the teacher waves her towards the bleachers and you onto the court. She hesitates for the space of a moment before obeying. Her silence and her eyes say she's worried about you. You smile what you hope is confident and you follow the other girls out onto the court.

The game is basketball and your partner for warm ups is Lira. You see Jane's hands curl into fists as you line up across from her for passing practice.

Her first pass comes so hard that all you have time to do is protect your face. The fake leather bounces off your hands, open like a shield. It stings, and your eyes burn a little, but you don't cry. Lira smirks.

On the bleachers, Jane stands up. Eyes fierce, but she doesn't get a chance to move.

Another ball, fast enough to be blurry, comes streaking out of nowhere, catching your partner in the face. Her nose is instant blood.

It's Alissa. Or Riley. You couldn't tell which. But Lira has to go to the nurse and a tiny blonde girl you don't know shifts down to be with you. You catch Alissa's eye and she grins at you. You don't need words to know that she has your back.

Riley turns to Jane. She crosses her right arm over her chest to pat the back of her left shoulder twice. And then she points at your dark haired girlfriend.

The gym teacher isn't looking but everyone else is.

The message is crystal clear.

Riley flashes you a smile and she and Alissa go back to passing like it's nothing.

Like you don't suddenly have more friends than you've ever had in your life.

In the hall, Barry falls into step, and a scrawny dark hair boy you don't know.

You almost trip when the realization hits you.

These are your friends.

Jane's hand slides down your arm to hold yours.

Your jaw might break from the size of your smile.

…

…

…

Complete. From the two thousand and nine publication of Webster's Dictionary.

Having all necessary parts, elements, or steps. Fully carried out. Total. Absoulte. Coming to an end.

Complete.

_(The day is a whirlwind of too many things. Mid-afternoon and you are exhausted. You can't imagine what she feels. For the most part your teachers have ignored her. They welcomed her back with a nervous smile or laugh, or they said nothing at all, just gestured her to her seat like she might have forgotten its location in her absence. You interpret this as a largely positive and compassionate gesture. She is behind and they do not draw attention to that fact. You thank every god you can think of. Your history teacher has moved a child so that you can sit next to her. She does not acknowledge she has done this. She does not acknowledge Jane at all.) _

Dinner is quiet.

No.

Dinner is silent and Jane doesn't eat very much.

Nobody pushes her because you all know that she is just tired. That lifting a fork takes three times the amount of work it takes you. That if she gets hungry later, she trusts you enough to ask for more.

On the couch, You try to explain how the day went, your parent's nervous expectant faces crinkling in confusion as you'd tripped over descriptions. No words mean what they are supposed to anymore. Your voice feels rough from disuse and you realize you haven't used it much all day. You realize with a start that Jane hasn't said anything at all. She sits next to you, eyes on your face as you try to explain what happened in gym.

_It was awful. It was wonderful. She was so mean and they were so nice._ Your parents exchange glances. Your mother looks like she might understand. Your father's eyebrows have disappeared into his hair line. You try to recreate the hallways between classes, and fail. There is no word for the way your stomach felt when you listened to those kids.

_Some of them said horrible things. Jane was amazing. She just kept walking._

She looks up at her name and meets your parent's eyes, but she has nothing to add. She looks beyond what you imagine weariness to look like.

Constance reaches out and you watch Jane lean into her hand like a plant leans towards the sun. Your mother tucks a strand of dark hair behind a delicate ear and then reaches down to take Jane's hand and your hand in each of her own.

Your father's hand is rubbing the back of her neck. She sighs, her hands tightening slightly.

_My brave girls. _

You redefine bravery as two smooth hands and the way everyone is connected.

You rework the word until it feels easy to say and easier to be.

Jane leans her head on your shoulder and her eyes close.

You redefine bravery as a tall skinny girl in your father's arms. Too old to be carried.

Too tired to care.

…

…

…

Complete. Revised.

There is a moment when light shoots through a prism. When you can hold the angled glass up to your window and the light shines through and is joyful.

It hops and shimmers and cannot contain its happiness.

There is a split second when light bursts apart. Unable to choose just one single color, unable to pick just one single definition, it settles for all of them. It breaks itself to be better.

It streaks across the wall of your room. Jangling. Silent. Infinite.

It is that moment you think of. When she slips down next to you and tangles her legs with yours.

The moment light bends and bursts and is happy.

When she slides a hand into your hair and presses her lips to the soft spot just below your ear.

The moment is all colors.

The moment she speaks. For the first time all day. The moment is dancing.

_I love you._

That moment. There.

You know who you are. You know how to define yourself at last. In that moment she says everything. She's a wordsmith. She leaves you speechless. She makes you.

Complete.

* * *

**_Gratitude. From Miriam Webster's online Resources. _**  
**_The quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness_**  
**_Gratitude_**

**_Gratitude. Revised._**  
**_If one of them should show up at your doorstep, you would know them immediately. You would be able to match the face to the words the way a mother can hear her child cry out across a playground and know that need at once. without turning around. They would show up and you would know them. thank them. Invite them into your house and say here._**  
**_Sit down next to my dog, by the fire, and get warm._**

**_love to all of you. _**

**_tc_**


	22. Chapter 22

It's Frankie.

At first you think you're mistaken. This tall skinny seven (eight?) year old boy could not be the one you used to split oreos with after school.

You look over your shoulder, Where Maura and Constance are picking out soups. It was Maura's idea to go food shopping. Like a family. Constance had agreed, haltingly, but warmed to it instantly.

You look back. It's him. Your brother. At first, you don't know what to do. You don't want to draw attention to him.

But he's standing there, in front of you and you can't not approach him. _Frankie? _He looks around. It is him. You're having trouble breathing. _Frankie!_

His eyes go hard and angry. They stop you dead. He glares. _You leave me alone._

You stare, taken aback by his fury. _What?_

_I don't have anything to say to you. _

You blink. There is no trace of recognition in his eyes. You blame the time. His age. You reach out, slowly. _What? Frankie! It's me! It's Janie! Your sister. _You want him in your arms. You want to hug him and ruffle his hair and tickle him, like nights when it would thunder and he would take refuge under your covers.

But he shakes his head. _You're being mean. pretending. You're a reporter. You know my name. Ma says not to talk to you._

You step closer and he steps back, like he's poised to run. _No! It's me. It's okay if you don't remember me. _You put your hands out. Like the absence of a microphone or camera will convince you. _You were young and it's been a really long time. _

But he points at you. Accusing. _you're not my sister. _

He curls his little fists.

_My sister is dead. _

_._

A lot of things happen after that. although most of it is blurry and out of focus.

Your mother rounds the corner. Angela. She comes around the corner behind Frankie, and you look up at her and watch her face go as pale as snow. She has the baby on her hip. Your baby brother. Not a baby anymore but three. brown eyed and curious. He grins at you as Angela approaches.

_Hi! _His face happy and open.

The ground threatens to heave you off your feet. You look at your mother. She grabs Frankie by the shoulder. _Go get the cart. _

He looks up at her, confused. _Ma, this lady says. _

She cuts him off, pushing him back in the direction she came from. _Francesco. The cart. Now. _He glances at you, but does as he's told. You can only look at Angela as she turns back to you. _What are you doing here? _She sounds panicked. _Where is..._ She looks around.

_You told him I died?_ Your voice is soft, but you want to scream. You want to knock over the shelves and pull out your hair. You want to...

_Jane?_ Constance comes around the corner and you turn to her. Her eyes go wide, and then furious as she sees Angela. _You. _

Angela looks relieved. She rubs her face. You take a step towards her. _Ma? You told him I died?_

She swears. Low. under breath. and when she says it, it's so low that you almost don't hear. But you do hear. And she might as well be yelling.

she swears. and then she says it. _Sometimes. I wish you would have._

...

...

At first you don't know how he found you, and then you remember that this is the first place he ever picked you up. This bench. In the pouring rain. he stops the car and sits in it for a moment, just looking at you, and then he gets out slowly, like he's afraid you'll run again. You close your eyes, trying not to remember how you'd pushed past Constance. How she'd cried out for you. How she'd yelled after you to come back.

(Sometimes I wish you would have.)

You don't run.

He sits down next to you on the bench, not looking at you, and the two of you sit. almost touching. _Did they send you to get me?_

Charlie shakes his head. _I went looking myself. When I heard. Couple places I thought you might go._

You smile. even though you think you might be dying. _You have a good memory. _Slowly, you lean against him. He wraps his arm around your shoulder at once. You clench your jaw trying to keep the tears away.

_They're worried about you._ His voice is deep and even. You are not afraid of him. He gives you a squeeze and you turn your head so that his jacket can mop up a few of the tears that escape.

You look up at him and he meets your eyes. _They're really worried. _He says again.

_Does everything hurt. Always?_ He looks away from you. Thinking. _Will they hurt me, Charlie?_

_(_Sometimes I wish you would have. I wish you would have.)

He looks back, leaning low so that you are eye to eye. Level. _No. _His voice is firm _They are good people. And that girl of yours? Well...she's about the best there is. _He smiles, sudden and real. _And she loves you. _

You look up at him. _Can you take me home?_

He nods, still smiling.

_My pleasure. _

_..._

There are two police cars in the driveway when you get there. You meet Charlie's eyes in the rearview mirror.

He moves to get out to open your door, but you stop him, and he watches as you work the handle yourself. _Thank you, Charlie. _

He nods once, dipping his head slightly. _Be strong._

.

_Where in the hell have you been?_ His voice goes all the way through you, and if you weren't so tired. If you weren't so...empty. You would probably pass out. That voice. _Where have you been?_ He advances on you and it's a nightmare. Quickly. You were wrong. you are not safe anywhere.

You take a step back. Blinking.

It's Charles. Not dead. Alive and about to beat you. _We have been looking everywhere. The police have been looking everywhere. You cannot just run when something hurts you. People here worry for you._

You back up. You need to get out of there. You can't breathe.

(sometimes. I wish.)

Above you a door slams. You think you can hear your name being called. Frantic. Relieved.

Maura. You look up, trying to stay, but he takes a step towards you and you back up again. No. She is not here. This is Charles and you have defied him and now he is going to beat you.

Constance's voice is warning. _Richard._

You close your eyes. Trying to stay. Your hands curl. Everything is a dream.

(Sometimes I wish you would have.)

Nothing is real. A fucking nightmare.

_Where were you? We were half out of our- _But you turn and you start back the way you came. You run_. _That voice.

But you only take three steps before two strong arms close around your waist and at once everything is extinguished. He has you. he's pulling you back.

_No. Not again._ Hoyt's voice (is it?). Snarling. _You're not taking off again. _

Something like a scream comes out of your mouth. But you don't give in. Not this time.

This time you fight. You're stronger. You're taller. He. Can't. Keep you. Not anymore.

(Sometimes I wish you would have.)

You can't see anything. You kick out. Hard.

Someone is screaming with you. Near you. _Richard! Richard let her go, you're terrifying her. _You don't understand the words. You don't hear the names. You can only hear you breathing. Him breathing. close to you.

(Sometimes. Some times I wish. You would have.)

You are blind. You are panicked. Hoyt.

_No. No way, Connie. I'm not letting her take off again. Jane. Honey. Calm down._

You can't breathe. You hit out again. As hard as you can. The hands loosen an inch.

_Jane! Ouch. Damnit calm down. I'm not going to hurt you_

Someone is saying your name over and over again, high and scared. Begging.

You would know that voice anywhere. It's Maura. You are sure.

You go cold all over. You're empty promises and broken bones. Maura. Here.

You're shattered.

(Sometimes I wish. I wish. You would. Sometimes I wish you would have.)

Suddenly nothing is important but getting free and getting her away. Saving her. Even if it kills you. Who would care anyway?

These arms, the ones tight around your waist, Hoyt's arms (aren't they?)

Hoyt's hands (they don't feel...)

Maura. You cannot let him touch her. You won't. You'd rather die. You'd rather he-

_Me!_ Your voice is strangled but loud and clear. You know he understands you. Even through your tears. You don't remember when you started crying. _Take me! Please. Don't hurt her._

You're offering him what he wanted. Isn't it what he wanted from the very beginning? From the moment he saw you? From the moment she sold you? Wasn't it what he whispered he was going to do? Every night? _Please…_

You'll give it to him if he would just let her go. If he would just…

His hands loosen and you are all terror all over. Just one thought.

Not Maura not Maura not the only person you've ever loved in the whole entire…

Be clearer! Tell him!

_Don't hurt her. Take me! Please. Charles! Fuck me!_

At once the arms are gone.

You were fighting against them hard enough that when they disappear, you fall forward, your hands shooting out to catch you automatically.

And then you are nothing but pain.

And it's the pain that brings you back.

.

Agony.

Pure and unadulterated as your hands hit the floor, taking the bulk of your weight, and your mouth is open and screaming again before you know which way is up.

The pain is white hot. It rockets up your arms and into your brain and you curl up. You can't help it. The wood of the entry way feels cold and hard and good.

You wait for a hand to wrap around your hair. To pull you up and then slam you down.

You wait for it like habit. Like nothing.

(Sometimes I wish you would have. I wish you would have. Sometimes.)

That's just muscle memory.

…

She has you up on your knees and in her arms faster than you'd imagined possible, and only when those arms wrap around you, does the nightmare fade away and you realize you are not in the apartment with Charles, but with her. Safe in her house.

In your house.  
Your hands settle to a dull ache but you don't care, you hold her back tight. Unwilling to let go for anything. For anyone.

The floor creaks behind you and you jump. She takes one hand off of you to thrust it at the noise, palm out. _GET AWAY! _Ferocious. Her other hand pulls you closer. _I've got you. _Her voice is right by your ear. She kisses your head again and again. Her hands trailing up and down your back. She's crying. You can feel her shaking. You hold tighter, trying to help.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _You are ashamed. You don't deserve her. You love her more than you love yourself. You were trying to protect her.

But you don't deserve her.

She is soft and gentle against you. Her hands on your face, pulling you back so you can look in her eyes, green and sad and full of love.

She loves you too. You know she does. You can tell her.

_Ma told Frankie and Tommy I was dead. _You can barely get it out. You choke on the last word. But you can see her understand.

Behind her, Constance sinks into a chair, her hand going to her mouth. _She told them I was…_You cannot say it a second time. _Tommy. He didn't…he didn't recognize me. He didn't know who…_You take a big deep shuddering breath. _Frankie called me a liar. He said I'm dead. Ma told them… _You can tell her.

just tell her and it will be like loosening.

_She said she wished I had died. _

Silence. You don't look anywhere. You can't. You're ashamed and everything hurts. Everything is hurt.

But she's pulling you back against her. Kissing every part of you that she can reach, and you're crying and apologizing. She shakes her head. _It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. You came home. _She takes your face between her hands so that she can look in your eyes. _I mean..._She falters, searching your face. _It matters. and It's awful, and I-I hate that woman._ You flinch. _I'm sorry...I just...I mean that I love you. And...I'm so glad you came back. _

You are exhausted. You close your eyes and let her kiss the lids. Let her help you to your feet. Take your hand. _Bed._ She says softly, and when she looks at Constance, the woman nods. She tugs you. _Bed. _a little bit pleading. _Come on._

You don't look behind you at Richard. You don't know if he's looking at you or not. You don't think you could handle it if he is.

.

She pulls you towards her room, but you don't want to go there. She turns and looks at you, scared. You shake your head. Her frown deepens.

_Come to my room_. You want her close to you. You want your bed. You want home. _sleep in my room._

She looks at you with huge eyes, and it feels big, that you want her in your room. In your bed. She's never been there and you've never invited her. _please. _

You take a step towards your room and she follows at once. nodding.

...

...

Constance is the only one in the kitchen when you come down the next morning. Maura is still sleeping. It's Sunday.

You have made up your mind.

_Hi. _She looks up at you, a little surprised.

_Hello, darling. _She glances behind you. _Maura?_

You shake your head. _She is still asleep._ Constance nods and puts aside her paper. She stands up.

_Are you hungry? Do you want-_

_I need you to take me somewhere._ Before you lose your nerve. _I-I need to go somewhere. _

She looks at you for a moment. You look down at your shoes. _Please. _

When she approaches you, you stay very still. You do not run. _Where do you need to go, Jane?_

From her, your name could stay.

You look up at her. _The Police Station. _

.

He's not surprised to see you. You called to make sure he was there, and when he wasn't, he said he would meet you.

He's waiting outside the precinct, like before. Like before, he waves at your car.

Constance says she will wait for you. Right there. She waits until you look her in the eye and nod. And then she settles back in her seat with the newspaper.

Korsak gestures you up the stairs, holds the door open for you, leads you to his desk.

You don't talk, and neither does he, but you can feel him studying you while you look at your gloves.

Just one solid color. Black.

_My mother wished I'd died._ It's not how you meant to start and you look up at him to see how he's taking it. He looks back at you. Impassive. It gives you a bit of courage. _She told my little brother I was dead. He didn't recognize me._ You stop so you don't cry.

Korsak doesn't say how sorry he is. He doesn't say you'll get through it. He just sits. And waits.

_I ran. I ran away because I...I was scared. _This feels wrong. _No. I was. I was too full. It was all going to overflow. I didn't want that. So I ran. _You look up at him.

He nods once. You roll your shoulders. _I didn't know who else could help me. _You say this fast. Because if you are wrong, you want to get out as fast as you can. _I thought...you could help me._

He leans forward a bit, and his face is curious, maybe a little excited. _Help you what, Jane?_

You look up at him. You do not think you are wrong.

_I want you to help me to stay. I don't want to run anymore. _You breathe.

_Can you help me stay?_

He stands up and you lean back looking up at him. wary.

But he's smiling. He's smiling and he's nodding.

_Yes. I can. _He gestures and you stand. Maybe you are smiling too.

You are alive. You lived.

Korsak beckons you, and you follow him. _You will? Help me? _He looks back at you.

_Of course I will. You're strong, Jane. _

_And that's real good. _

* * *

**_things have been hard here. your comments and your PMs and your support got me through. I can't thank you enough.  
For those waiting Expect WMM tomorrow evening. _**

**_much love. _**

**_tc. _**


	23. Chapter 23

Your parents call you and Jane into the living room. It is two days before they have to leave and as the hours tick by you realize that you are dreading the departure.

Jane stays close by you when you sit on the couch and when your mother leans forward to hand her the cell phone, she leans back against you, confused.

_It's our plan. _ She glances at you and then watches as Jane slides the phone slowly out of your hand. _So you can call anyone you like. Any time. Or text. Alright?_ Jane doesn't answer. She tilts back towards you. Silent.

Your mother glances at you, her face all questions that you can't answer, because you don't know.

Jane nods, but she doesn't look at anyone.

Your father moves forward and takes two credit cards out of his pocket and holds them out, palm up. Jane shivers once, and then holds herself still.

_The blue one is your allowance and the black one is for emergencies. If you get lost or stranded or…hurt. _She looks at the cards in confusion, then at you, then finally at him, but she doesn't speak. You give her a squeeze.

_Allowance._ Like a foreign word. She almost whispers it to herself.

Your father nods. _Yes. One hundred and fifty dollars a month. _

Her eyes go round and wide and she stares up at him, confused. Scared. _Money?_ She presses against you a little harder as he nods. You wonder what allowence has meant to her in the past. You feel a little sick. _For-for what?_

Your father looks baffled by this question. He opens his mouth and shuts it again. Your mother leans forward. _For anything you'd like, sweetheart. Within reason. _She smiles and Jane's focus slides slowly, like a sleepwalker, to take in your mother. _You can buy clothes or food or books…_Jane's head seems to be spinning. You put a finger out and your mother falls silent, looking at you.

_Jane?_ Your hand finds its regular spot between her shoulder blades. _Jane?_

She looks at you, and her eyes are dry but hinting towards tears. Your other hand is on her cheek. Your lips are on hers. You don't even care that your parents are there. _What is it?_ Watching her struggle is like watching a drop of ink in water. Slow and unbearable. Irreversible. _Tell me. _You kiss her again.

She turns away slightly. Her face hardens. _What do I have to do?_ When she speaks, her voice is steady and unwavering. She's made her peace.

Your father's face goes dark and furious, and your mother's registers shock for the space of a second, before she makes it calm. Gentle. _Nothing. _Firm and insistent. _You do not belong to us or work for us, darling. You are part of our family._

She looks up sharply, almost angry. Frustrated. _Family._ She growls it. And why shouldn't she. What has that word ever done for her.

You flinch as you realize her only other experiences with family and money, and she looks around at you. Concerned.

_Hang on. _You stand and she would stand too but for your outstretched hand. She looks at, frowning, but obeys. You're already moving away. _I'll be right back. _

When you return to the living room, you have your shoulder bag in hand. You sit next to her and pull out your wallet and your phone. _Look. _The phone is the same model. _We match. _Her face softens a bit. She bites her lip. You pull two identical cards out of your wallet. _See? _You let her take them from you. Turn them over in her hands. _I have the same ones. I get the same thing. They don't own me. _She looks at you hard. Like she's trying to catch you lying. You put your hand in her hair. _No one here hurts._

She heaves a breath, thinking. Presses the pads of her fingers together. _I want to do something. _She nods after this sentence, as though mildly surprised it has come out the way she wants. She says it again. _I want to do something. To earn it._ Her brow furrows and although you reach down to tug her hands apart, you let her consider. She thinks for a long time, and you can see her searching through a list of tasks. And then, sadly. _I don't get good grades._

Your mother leans forward. _Your progress in school had nothing to do with your abilities. _Her voice is bitter for the first time. _You were starving._ Jane flinches. Her hand on your knee tightening. Your mother leans forward. _Everything hurt, right? Everything was spinning all the time? Fuzzy? Like you couldn't hold onto anything? _Jane swallows. Nods.

Constance leans back, nodding too. _Some of that was dyscalculia. But a lot was hunger, and fear, and exhaustion. _She waits until Jane looks at her. _That part is better. Will keep getting better. Now that you are safe. _

silence.

You tug Jane's hands apart again as they worry the edges of her gloves. It's becoming a habit.

_I got an A once._ Her voice is quiet and hesitant, and you know why. _But…I lost it. When I ran…I-I'm sorry. _Your mother reaches out to her and she doesn't move, but you put your arm around her instinctively.

_You work hard. _Your mother says, almost fierce. _You work hard at school and at the precinct and in therapy…and we'll call it even. Alright?_

She looks up, at your father, and so does your mother. He's not looking at them but down at the floor. His face still dark and unreadable. Your mother glances at you and then back at Jane. _Alright, Jane?_

Sometimes. When your mother says her name, you can see her change a little. Sit up a little straighter. Get a little stronger. It happens now, as she looks back at your mother.

She nods. _Okay._

…

They fight. It is mid-afternoon on the day before they leave and you are in your room. Jane has just come back from the police station sweaty and tired. Face set and determined, and not unhappy. You have stopped asking her why she goes and what they are doing, even though the question is burning you up inside. The first time you asked, she'd shaken her head, like 'drop it' and you had, because you want her to trust you. To feel safe with you.

But you are dying to know.

You sit on your bed and you listen to your parents fight.

_I don't want to go. I don't want to leave them. _Your mother's voice is steady.

_You know as well as I do that we don't have a choice. If I could give your half of the lecture, or find someone as competent…_Your father. Calm and collected. Like always. You put the book down on the bed, listening.

_What if something happens. What if that awful woman says something else that is-_

_Connie…It's three days. It's Seattle, not Uganda. We could he home in half a day. _

There is a silence, and you imagine your mother's face. _This is easy for you_. Angry.

_What?_

_This is easy for you. Leaving our child. Our __children__ behind. _Her voice is rising. You stand up, although you are not immediately sure why. Your muscles just jump you to your feet. They know before your brain.

_Is that what you think? You think I enjoy leaving?_ Your father's voice rises too.

_Is it what happened in the entry way? Is it because of her flashback?_ Jane. You are standing because you need to get to Jane. If you can hear this, so can she.

_Constance. _

_It is._ Your mother sounds incredulous. _Richard. She wasn't here. Her mind was... She wasn't with us. She thought that- _

_I heard what she thought, Constance, alright? They whole neighborhood heard what she thought I was going to do to her. _Quiet, so they don't hear you, you slip from your room and down the hall, pushing her door open without knocking. It's empty.

_Not you, honey. Charles. _Your heart stops beating. You look around the room again, like you might have missed her. She's not there.

_Is there a difference?_ Pleading. You've never heard this tone from him before. You step further into the room. You whisper her name.

_Of course there is. And if you'd let yourself be in the same room with her, you'd see that she's just waiting for you to forgive her. _

You whisper her name again, trying to listen over your own hyperventilating. Something in the bathroom makes a noise.

_For me to…why would she think-_

The soft click of the bathroom door closing behind, and you realize why she came in here. It effectively muffles your parents' voices. You look around.

Jane is in the corner, Virtus in her lap, eyes closed.

You drop to your knees, say her name. Her eyes flutter open and she looks at you. You touch her knee. Just to make sure she is real. _You're here._

She looks at you. Lifts a lilac glove to brush some hair away from your eyes.  
She smiles at you, a little faltering, but a little strong. She took care of herself. She didn't run.

Her finger lingers on your jaw. _Maura_. _I'm okay. _

You fall a little.

…

In her dreams she tosses and turns and cries out, but you are not afraid of her.

Sometimes. Usually after therapy, or days when she comes home from the precinct, her dreams are violent, running in waves through her body like an ocean caught up in a hurricane. They've grown in intensity as the weeks pass by. Now, she hisses, and spits…and starts to fight back.

She doesn't calm for your mother when she pushes into her room at night.

Your father doesn't try.

But tonight, you are there, and you stop your mother at the door with a hand held high, your other moving to pull the sweaty brown curls away from her face.

_Be careful._ Your mother hisses and you glance up at her sharply. At her face sharp and haunted looking in the shadows cast by the hall. You shake your head because she doesn't understand.

_Maura. Come here,_ her voice is almost a command. _Let her wake up. If she hurt you, you know she'd never… _

You shake your head again, ducking a little to avoid an elbow. You're not afraid. She just needs your hands.

Jane pitches and cries out again. _No. please._ And quickly, quickly on her exhale, you gather her into your arms, your hands finding skin, hot and damp and shivering.

She quiets at once. She holds onto you. Her eyes do not open but the furrow of her brow smooths and disappears. Her breathing evens out.

She knows your hands and your voice and even in sleep…she responds to you. Even at her strongest and fiercest, as her stomach hardens and her biceps gain definition, and she can pick you up and spin you around on the sidewalk outside of the school.

You are not afraid.

You look up at your mother, her expression astounded in the dim light. _I won't let her go._ You speak above a whisper. You know that it would take a lot to pull Jane from slumber now. _Even when she's drowning…You won't understand but…She knows._

As if to punctuate your point, Jane rolls towards you, burying her head in your neck. The smooth curtain of her hair coming to fall across your chest. You look down at her. Enraptured.

_I'm her lighthouse._

Your mother stands in the doorway for a moment longer before turning without a word, and heading away.

...

_What do you do with him? _It's the middle of the night and you can't help but ask her. It's the third night you two are in her bed in her room. The third time she's asked you and the invitation makes you bold.

_What do you do with Detective Korsak?_

Each time she goes in looking as close to normal as she ever does. And comes out looking drawn and set. Unwavering.

_Is he teaching you something? _Several ideas have occurred to you. Self-defense, public speaking, criminal justice.

But none of them seem to match face she is making when she slips into the car beside you and grasps your hand.

She rolls over and looks at you. And while she searches for an answer, you let yourself get lost in her eyes.

_He's teaching me to stay_.

You hadn't expected this as an answer. You hadn't really expected an answer at all. You'd asked without heat. You weren't going to leave if she refused to answer. You look up at her and you think maybe that she has understood all of this.

Maybe this is your reward.

_Stay where? _You push your luck, reaching up to her lips.

She half smiles and you fall a little bit. She kisses your fingers.

_With you. _

You scoot closer to her, unable to contain your smile. Unable to contain the bounding and bending of emotions. Of butterflies that have unleashed themselves in your chest. _Oh._ You put your head on her shoulder, and she wraps her arm around you. _Oh. How wonderful. _

In the dark. With your eyes closed. You can tell she's smiling.

_Yes. _

…

You stand side by side, watching your father load the car. Your mother hugs you again. _You'll call us every day?_

You roll your eyes, unable to believe that this is what you wished for every day for years. _Yes, mother. Probably sometimes twice._

She smiles at your tone, turning to look at Jane, who is staring at her shoes. _Alright, darling?_

She looks up at your mother, and then past her, where your father is leaning on the car, waiting. She frowns.

_Jane? _You reach for her, but before you can put hands on her, she's bounding down the stairs, towards your father.

_Wait._ She doesn't yell, though her voice is a little desperate. _Wait._

You follow her down the steps of the porch, down to the car where your father stands like a statue, watching her. She gets right up to him before she stops, and your mother takes your arm, holding you back a ways.

She's fumbling in her pocket, and you watch her pull out a card, handwritten in the shaky, painful script you've come to recognize from her. _Ch-charlie helped me get it. _Her voice is halting. She's afraid. _I-I used the blue card at the store…I also got a Coke._

But he doesn't answer. He's looking down at her writing, his face mask like. You feel your mother push you gently, and the two of you come around to his side.

You glance down at the card.

**please have a safe flight and come ****back ****home soon. **

**i will think up new ways to school you at chess.**

**thank you for keeping me safe. **

**love. **

**jane. **

You look up at Jane, and she's watching your father, muscles tight and tense and ready to get away quickly if something goes wrong. Your father stares at the card for much longer than it takes to read, and you see your mother just about to reach out and touch him, when he starts to laugh.

He laughs, and laughs and he reaches out and puts his hand on the back of Jane's neck. He pulls her into a hug, and when she wraps her arms around him, he kisses the top of her head. He murmurs something in her ear that makes her pull back and look up at him, eyes wide.

He grins at her. _Home before you know it. _He reaches out to you and you go, feeling your mother close behind.

For a while you all stand there. You don't want to let the feeling go. Everyone together, smiling and comfortable and…almost whole.

But then your mother pulls away, clucking and looking at her watch, and one more hug and a pat on the cheek and they are gone.

Jane's hand slides into yours as you watch the car out the front gate.

_You sad?_ Jane's voice makes you jump. You look at her, her eyes are a little watery (though she'd never admit it) and her lip, as usual, is between her teeth.

_Maur?_ You haven't answered. You've just been looking at her. _You sad?_

You squeeze her hand gently. You would know it anywhere. Even in your sleep.

She's your lighthouse.

_A little._ You pull her back towards the door. _But I'm not alone. _

* * *

**_"out of the ashes, we will make fire like stars" -Will Severin 'A Tale of Cinderella' _**


	24. Chapter 24

You are hanging upside down.

The cold metal of the pull up bar hard and unyielding on the back of your knees.

You're breathing hard. Panting. Sweaty. You close your eyes...trying to reorient yourself. Every muscle in your legs and abdomen is burning. You don't know if you can do one more sit up.

Something shifts behind you, to your left. A voice is in your ear.

_Enough?_

Your eyes snap open. The opposite wall of the rec. room is whitewashed, big black block letters across the entire thing.

**Strong Body. Strong Mind. **

Korsak's hand comes to rest on your back. To help you down. _Enough?_ He's not telling you, but asking. supporting.

You shake your head, clenching your stomach muscles and locking your knees, forcing yourself to sit up in mid air. No. Not enough.

_More. _You grit your teeth. _I can do more. _

_..._

The second time you wanted to go to the precinct, Constance and Richard insisted on coming with you. You sat on a bench around the corner, listening to the Isles interrogate detective Korsak about his intentions. About your safety. The concern in their voice had made you smile.

_I'm just not sure..._ Richard, his voice low.

_I think it would be good for her._ _I think she's the type of kid who needs something like this._ Korsak's voice was non threatening. Neutral.

_With all due respect, Detective, _Constance could barely keep a note of anger out of her tone, _You have no idea what type of kid she is. _

Silence for a moment, and then Korsak, in the same flat tone, _With all due respect, Mrs. Isles...I don't think Jane knows either. _He'd waited a beat, but neither Isles had seemed inclined to speak. You'd closed your eyes in that moment, unsure if you were more relieved or scared. _She runs because she doesn't know how else to deal with her emotions. _

Constance made a disgruntled type of sound in her throat. _She runs because she's terrified._

_The truth is...we don't know why she runs. _Korsak's voice had risen a little, cutting across her, and you'd imagined him stepping forward. toe to toe with Richard. _I'm giving her another option. She asked_ _me to. I won't hurt her or do anything that she is uncomfortable with. But she's asked me and I've said yes. I'd like to honor that._

There was nothing either of them could say to that. 

So they left you there that second time. Grudgingly. Constance had put her hand on the side of your face before she left, and you had held onto her wrist with both hands. trying to show her what it meant that she trusted Korsak. That she trusted you.

She'd smiled at you. _Be safe. _her eyes had searched yours for a moment. _Be safe. Come home. _

You'd watched them down the precinct steps, and your heart was doing something a little painful and a little good.

_I will...mom. _you'd said it quiet enough that you didn't think she would hear.

But she'd stopped walking five steps from the sidewalk, her back to you. She'd tilted her head, like she was listening.

You don't know what made you say it again. quiet, like a question. _mom? _

Her hand tightened on the railing, and you could see her breathe in and not out, like the air is caught in there, but she didn't turn around.

Her free hand went up to her face for a moment. Wiped something away.

You'd just stood on the top step, watching her. your lips moved over the word again, but you didn't say it.

Your heart was doing something a little hard and a little beautiful.

You didn't want her to turn around and see. You liked it like this. It made you bold. _Mom. _Firm. decided.

_Jane. _She could be speaking to the cement but you'd know your name from her anywhere.

From her.

Your name could be somebody's baby.

_Jane. Be safe. And then come home. _And not turning around, just one brisk nod to the side, she was gone.

You turned to go back into Korsak.

You couldn't stop grinning.

...

You stand still, listening. Eyes shut. You can hear him moving on your right. You prepare yourself.

_You're tired. _

You shake your head. _I'm not tired. _

_You're tired. He could come right now and drag you away by the hair._ You feel a gentle tug on one of your locks of hair. Korsak knows how Charles would use your hair.

He's trying to wind you up.

He's trying to make you run. _He could drag you away right now. You're so tired. You'd have no choice. _

Charles' hand in your hair.

You choke out a growl. _He's dead._

_Is he dead, Jane?_

Korsak. That's Detective Vince Korsak, and he's trying to make you run. You're tired and sweaty and your hands are aching. You keep your eyes shut tight as your breathing gets shallow. Your hands curl by themselves. Hoyt...No. Fight it.

Stay.

_Yes. He's dead. You shot him. I'm fine._

Something presses at your ribs, and you know it's Korsak, that he has the pads on. It makes you angry. That he thinks he can get to you so quickly. You growl again. _You're dead._

Damnit. slip of the tongue. You've practically given him permission.

You almost lose your breath when the push comes, harder this time, and then he wraps around you. dragging you back.

Your eyes fly open, but all you can see is darkness.

Charles.

He's back.

He's going to kill you. You're going to die, you...

No.

You reach up and find something to hold on to. You're blind with panic but you are not going to run. The back of the neck? An ear? Your fingers lace through the hard wire of a face mask and you drag it down, down, down. Your right knee coming up. Hard.

_I'll kill you. _Charles screams it. (No. Korsak...right?)

You don't care. To kill you he'd have to subdue you, and you'd like to see him fucking try.

You bring the head down into your knee again, and then your throw him off, rounding and following. Putting a knee square where you think a solar plexus would be.

The form underneath you goes limp.

_Jane._ Not Charles. Korsak's voice. _Jane. _

You blink. And blink.

Detective Korsak's face swims into view, flushed with exertion, behind a wire rimmed cage mask.

You're breathing heavily. You roll off him so he can sit up. _You wore the mask this time_.

He chuckles. _You would have broken my nose without it. _He glances at you, pulling off the gloves. Like a hockey player. _Your hands?_

They hurt, but you're not crying. you wiggle your fingers slowly and he nods approvingly, glancing up at the digital clock on the rec. room wall. _Took seven minutes for me to goad you into a flashback this time. _He leans over and bumps your shoulder so you'll look at him. _Had to say some stuff I didn't particularly enjoy. _

You smile because you know he's asking you if you're alright.

The rules of your days with Vince are simple: You run a work out regimen until you're almost too tired to stand, and then he pads up and tries to trigger you into either running or fighting back.

In the beginning he didn't need to put pads on. You bolted the second he reached for you, yelling the safe word and shutting yourself in the tiny changing room designated as your "calm down" room.

Today. He wore the mask.

He wore the mask and... _You said you would kill me. _You look at him.

He looks genuinely sorry. _I did._

You shake your head, _I heard it. and you know what? I thought: I'd like to fucking see you try._

Korsak's eyebrows shoot up. He starts to laugh. When he puts his arm around you, you lean your head on his shoulder.

_You know..._You hate it when he starts sentences like that. _You could bring that family of yours here. They would be awfully proud to see what you're doing here. Even if for no other reason than to see how strong you've become. _

You stiffen. You don't want the Isles to see you here. They wouldn't understand. They would think Korsak was too rough. they would think you were disturbed, or wicked, or...

_Hey._ Korsak's hand rubs up your arm. _Trauma is like a virus. It manifests itself differently in everyone. _When Korsak speaks about your trauma, it doesn't feel shameful. _Your therapist agrees this is helping you. I wouldn't do this if I didn't see you changing. _

You pull away so you can look at him. _I'm changing?_

He smiles and starts to get to his feet.

_Yes. For the better. _He reaches his hand out to help you up. Looks at you hard.

_This is what helps you. This is what we'll do. _You start to walk towards the door, so you only hear him say it. But that's enough

_You're not a monster, Jane._

_..._

When you are changed, and waiting near the front door for Charlie and Maura to pull up, Korsak comes to stand next to you.

_Hear the parents are away._ He calls the Isles your mother and father, even when you call them Constance and Richard.

You love him for it. _Yep. _

He smiles devilishly. _You and Maura gonna get into trouble? _You look blank and he chuckles._ Different upbringing, I bet you would have been a hellraiser, Rizzoli._

You look at him, wide eyed. It has not occurred to you to do anything but go to school and the precinct, like you normally do, while her parents are gone.

You must look confused, because Korsak sighs. _Go out! Go to the movies! The...christ, what do kids do these days. Go to a diner!_

You look at him. _A diner?_

He looks like he could say more, but the big black car pulls up at that moment, the window rolling down to reveal Maura's excited face. You start down the steps.

Korsak waves to Maura.

_You're a kid, Rizzoli. _His voice follows you down the steps.

_Go do...KID stuff!_

Maura leans forward to kiss you as you slide in beside her. _What was that about?_

You shake your head, taking a moment to drink in the presence of your girlfriend. _Korsak thinks I act too grown. Wants us to do kid things this weekend. _You look at her. _What are kid things, Maur?_

She stares at you, lips a little bit parted.

_I...I don't know._

Together. At the same time. You both look forward. At Charlie.

...

On your tenth birthday your mother took you and Franke out for a celebratory dinner.

_Ten_ she'd said, trying to find a comfortable way to sit in the hard subway chair, her pregnant stomach straining against her shirt. _Double digits. It's something to celebrate. _

Frankie had bounced up and down in the seat next to yours. Excited to be riding the subway, excited to be holding your hand. Just excited.

You went to a diner. Not much. fifties style, where the waitresses wore hoop skirts and zoomed past on roller skates, and at ten, you thought they were the coolest thing that you'd ever seen. You wanted to be just like them.

Your hair was in pigtails. two blue ribbons and a part down the middle. Ten might have been too old for pigtails and it might have been too old to hold your mothers hand, but you'd done it anyway. You didn't care.

You and Frankie couldn't decide what flavor milkshake to share. He was three, and he always got his way, so when you looked at your mother, you didn't expect much.

But she smiled. Looked at Frankie. Said. _Birthday girl gets to decide. _

Your eyes had probably been wide and shiny. _Chocolate. _Ecstatic. _Chocolate! Chocolate!_

Your mother laughed

Two straws. Lots of giggles.

Your mother was quiet, just watching. Frankie got milkshake all down his front, and she did not even scold him. You ate all of your burger and all of your french fries and stole more off of Frankie's plate when he was playing with the ketchup packets. Your mother grinned at you conspiratorially and said nothing.

It was your birthday and you could not have been happier.

When the waitress brought you your complimentary brownie sundae, you got to blow out the candle and make a wish. Frankie had picked up his fork, ready, but your mother leaned forward.

_What did you wish for, honey girl?_

You looked at her.

You need new pants. The sleeves of your shirts stop several inches above your wrists.

They don't have an extra history text book for you at school and the one in the bookstore is forty seven dollars and ninety five cents.

Ma says you cannot get a job until you are eighteen.

There was a nice woman who came to school yesterday and asked you a bunch of questions about what the inside of your apartment looked like. About what you ate for supper and when the new baby was due.

_I can't tell you Ma._ You'd said.  
You wished that time would stop.  
That the baby would never be born and the sole of your shoe would never fall off. That you would magically stop growing.

You wished that the inside of your apartment looked like the one you described to the lady, and that you'd had the guts to steal the fifty dollar bill out of that man's jacket on the bus.

You wished you could be eighteen.

You wished you could be ten forever.

_I can't tell you or it won't come true. _You'd made your mouth smile.

You mother had leaned forward, across the table, to take your hand. _You know if I could find someway to help us. If I could find someway to make things better for you I would. You know that right?_

You'd leaned back so Frankie could attack the sundae.

_I know, Ma. _

...

The diner isn't hard to find, and as you pull up in the car, you see that Barry, Alissa and Riley are already there, lingering out front. Chatting.

Maura looks scared. Frozen. You're trying to take Korsak up on his advice. You'd invited them.

You nudge her. _You scared?_

She looks indignant for a moment and then resigned. _We're an odd number. _You glance out the window. _It is difficult to predict conversation flow between an odd number of people. Alissa and I have nothing in common besides...you, I guess...and if I were to try and generate topics of conversation with her, they would have to revolve around something of a-_

You kiss her. Mostly because she is talking too fast and you can't absorb it all, and a little because she's gorgeous when she's flustered.

When you pull back, her eyes are still closed. You wait, but she stays like that.

_Maura?_

Nothing. You scoot closer. _Maura?_

Her eyes open, a shade darker. She licks her lips. You grin. _Better?_

She nods, reaching for the door handle. _Much. _

.

The diner is unchanged.

You follow Maura into her side of the booth, putting your arm around her for reassurance. She's flushed, but smiling, and when the waitress has skated away with your orders, you realize that the conversation is coming easily, neither of you really has to work at it.

_I mean...that was before Rizzoli hulked out on us. _Barry's tone tells you he is both kidding, and not kidding. _Make a muscle for us, Jane. _The four of them turn to look.

You flex.

The sound Maura makes is like a surprised kitten mewing. Alissa and Riley's eyes widen. _Well hot god damn. _Frost crows.

You grin, like you've seen Korsak do in the gym when he's benching something heavy in front of a woman cop. Maura's face goes a little pinker, and you replace your arm and wink at Frost.

_Jealous?_

Riley bursts into laughter.

_Hell yeah! _Frost takes a big long sip of his milk shake, making sure to burp loud at the end.

An old couple near by look over angrily. They shake their heads.

When your french fries come, you and Alissa have a mini food fight.

When you have trouble picking up your burger, Maura helps you and no one says anything.

It's not until Frost orders his third milkshake, and Maura has finished half of your burger and neglected her salad, and Alissa is snapping cell phone pictures of Riley with two straws in her mouth like walrus tusks, that you think this is what Korsak meant.

_This _is kid stuff.

.

You love it.


	25. Chapter 25

**_Trigger warning. (ts. srsly. be careful.)_**

* * *

Just like that. The whispers start again.

It's Tuesday. Charlie drops you off and the moment you step foot inside the school, you can tell something is different.

Everyone who sees you stops to stare. You can feel Jane tense next to you.

Barry and Alissa meet you at your locker. Jane holds out her fist to bump Barry's, and he hesitates.

Jane frowns, glances at you. _Frost?_ You notice that she steps closer to you as she says it. Protective.

You love her.

Frost glances at Alissa, who is looking at Jane. _We_. He stops after each word, like they are getting stuck in his throat. _We…thought that you wouldn't come in today._

You look back and forth between Barry and Alissa. You can feel Jane getting nervous beside you. You can feel way she's starting to wind in on herself. Like a spring. You put your hand on her shoulder, but when she flinches, you pull away, apologizing.

You look at Alissa. She looks pale. Like she's been sick, or is going to be sick. But when a freshman walks by, his mouth open and staring at Jane like a fish, she pulls her face into a scowl and pushes him so hard he nearly falls into a nearby trashcan.

_Didn't your mama teach you no manors, you asswipe?! _The freshman rights himself and scurries off. Everyone nearby looks at you. You feel yourself blushing.

_What?_ Barry looks around at the group of people who have stopped walking. _Does anyone else want to act like a damn fool?_ At that moment Riley pushes her way past a group of sophomore girls making sure to give them a look of deepest disdain. When she reaches you, she gives you a smile and holds her hand out to Jane.

Jane relaxes half an inch. _Good to see you_. Riley glances between the two of you. _I didn't think you'd come in today. You've both got major cajones._

Alissa bites her lip. _They don't know what happened, Ry. _

Riley's face goes white. She looks at Alissa, then back at you. _W-what?_

Jane rolls her shoulders. You can feel her fear starting to turn angry. _What happened? What don't we know._

All three of them look guilty. They don't want to share. You feel like your clothes are shrinking. You feel itchy and uncomfortable. _Just tell us._ You are desperate. You hate not knowing.

You reach for Jane, but pull away, remembering how she'd flinched. _What happened?_

Alissa nudges Barry. He sighs heavily. _The news ran a story last night. _He looks up at you and you can see unwillingness in every line of his face. You nod and he sighs again. He looks at Jane

_It was about you, Jane. _He says._ All about you. And Hoyt._

…

Ms. Grow does not want to show it you.

You're supposed to be in History, but on the way a senior asks Jane if she'd give him a blow job if he tied her up, and it's all you can do to get her into the empty science class room.

Ms. Grow looks up at you as you shut the door behind your white and trembling girlfriend.

_You can stay here until your driver comes. _Ms. Grow watches as you rub up and down Jane's arm, trying to elicit a response.

_No._ Your voice is firm. It makes both of them look at you with wide eyes. _No. Show us what everyone is talking about._

Ms. Grow's hand goes to her necklace. _Maura, I don't think-_

You wave her away, your hand tight around Jane's arm. _Please. _

She looks at you and then at Jane. She opens her mouth again, to say no.

_Please._ You make your voice as soft as you can. Try to show her what this means.

She looks at you hard for a long, long time, and then she turns away from you, opening the top of her laptop.

_Come here._

…

The worst part is not that the story starts at the Mapparium, although your vision is instantly blurry with tears of rage. The newscaster, who is a woman walks under the soft blues and golds of Jane's sanctuary, pointing out to the camera that this _is where the lonely teen would often go to find refuge. To sit look up at the stained glass world and wonder if there was anywhere on it, that she could be safe._

Jane jerks at this, and when you glance at her you're unsure if she's done so because of how condescending the woman sounds or how she might have come close to the truth.

Ms. Grow is watching your face. _I can turn it-_

Jane shakes her head vigorously. The program continues.

The worst part is not the tour of her apartment. It is not how the news caster ducks under the old police tape, and gestures, almost excitedly at the manacles bolted to the wall, the chains still lying there. or how she squats down by the mattress, stained and brown and horrible.

You close your eyes, fighting nausea. Trying not to think of this airing in the homes of all your classmates. In the homes of strangers that you would have to pass every day on the street. And Jane.

_Jane._

You look at her, as the woman on screen tells the camera man to get a close up on the floor by the bed in the back room. You watch Jane's face as she looks at the reporter. The woman is blonde and blue eyed, and though her expression is grave, her eyes are alive with something that you would call excitement under any other circumstance.

_These marks on the hardwood here, we're told are fingernail marks. From when Jane, on numerous occasions tried to prevent herself from being dragged out from under the bed…and beaten._

Ms. Grow turns away, and you feel your stomach heave. _Turn it off._ You say. _Jane. _You look up at Ms. Grow, and she reaches for the computer.

But Jane's hand shoots out, and grabs the teacher's wrist, stopping her. She's staring wide eyed at the screen.

And the worst part happens.

.

After you've gotten sick. After Ms. Grow calls Charlie, and the Principal, and the latter informs you that the senior who taunted Jane in the hallway is suspended pending a possible expulsion.

After you've fed Jane's arms into her coat and led her down the hall like a zombie, Alissa and Barry and Riley circling you like body guards, daring anyone to say anything.

After all of that.

She falls asleep against you in the car, like her body's giving up. Like a defense mechanism.

And you sit in the driveway, looking at Charlie in the rearview mirror. Unsure if you should wake her.

Charlie leaves the car running, letting you decide, and the hum of the engine is comforting. You run your hand through her hair. She sighs in her sleep.

_Your folks will not stand for this._ Charlie's deep voice jerks you out of your thoughts. You look up at him. _They're gonna hear about this. And when they do…_

You hadn't considered that. For a moment you feel a sick sort of pleasure, imagining that news caster without her job. And then…

_You saw it, Charlie?_ He looks at you. Sad.

_Yes, Ma'am. _He looks like he's done something wrong, _It ran last night at six. Again at eleven. I am truly sorry._

You shake your head. For a moment, when you blink, you can see the blonde, perky woman setting up the reenactment. The worst part.

Her voice like ten thousand needles in your spine.

_Our analysts are able to say it would have looked something like-_

Jane starts awake against you. You reach for her, but she pulls away. You don't follow. You want to give her space to process. You try to put some words on your own feelings.

Anger. Fear. Disappointment. Fury.

They don't do enough.

They are not strong enough.

The emotions you feel are pushing out against your ribs like they are the bars of a jail cell.

They wail and scream and scrape at the inside of you.

_Ready to go in?_

Her eyes slide to take you in. You reach out, but when her face registers fear, you pull back. She watches your hand, frowning.

_Are you ready? _You hold yourself still so she doesn't look scared of you anymore. But the new expression is almost as bad. Exhaustion. Resignation, though you don't know to what.

She nods, glancing up at Charlie. _Thanks, Char._

He smiles at her, just as warm as ever. You love him.

…

Marisol is waiting just inside the door, and when she offers you a snack, Jane shakes her head.

_I want to lie down._

She lets Marisol take her face between her hands and look at her. She only flinches a little when the woman leans forward and kisses her nose. _Okay, small tiny. _She continues to call Jane this even as she has begun to fill out. Jane almost smiles, pulling away and heading up the stairs.

You watch her go.

Anger is a monster.

It claws and eats everything inside of you until you are ragged and empty.

.

You and Marisol eat dinner alone, and at first it is silent. You sit at the breakfast bar and she puts a plate of food down in front of you. Hands you a fork.

You glance up at the ceiling, like you could see through it into her room, and could tell if she is alright. You sigh and look back down, catching Marisol's eyes. She's looking at you shrewdly.

_She sees the news. _Marisol is not asking. Just confirming. You nod glumly, unable to push words past the lump in your throat. _Did you go to her?_

Yes. You had. Twice in the afternoon, you'd tried to get her to open up to you. She'd shaken her head, concentrating hard on whatever she was doing on her tablet.

_I reach for her and she pulls away._ You try not to sound like you're about to cry. _She does that sometimes…and I don't want to…_

You stop. Not sure what the end of that sentence is. Anything that could end it would be a lie. When it comes to Jane. You want to everything.

Marisol makes a neutral sound. _How much time you spend denying yourself her skin?_

You look up at her sharply, not sure if you've understood. She smiles gently. _How many times you want to move to her, and you don't, little hopeful?_

You blush, shrug your shoulders. _I-I don't know._ Yes. You do. The answer is a lot. Hundreds of times.

Marisol clucks her tongue, reaches out to touch your cheek, and you lean forward, expectant. But at the last moment, she pulls away, tucking her hand in her apron. You look up at her, surprised, wondering what you've done.

She chuckles, _I reach for you. You prepare yes? You trust that Marisol's hands are gentle. _You nod. She continues. _But I pull away. Last second. _She holds her hands out. _What you thinking? You dirty? You ugly? Marisol can't stand to look at you?_ She dips her head, making sure you're still looking in her eyes. _You think, what did me: hopeful, beautiful girl, do to make Marisol not __want__ to touch._

You nod. Yes. You had thought something along those lines, if only for a second. But you're not sure where she's going. You look up at her. _ I don't-_

But she waves you away with a hand and a cluck of her tongue. _You are smart. Very, very smart. Marisol remembers how smart, even as a baby. _She shrugs. _So. You tell yourself. Marisol still loves me. Maybe is something wrong with the day. Something about the time. Maybe she is scared. She hug me when she good and ready. _  
You smile, but stop as your cook turns to look at you. Her face is very serious.

_You deny yourself touching that girl because you think you will scare her. She push you away and you go. You respect. You think she won't like it. It…_She casts around. _It will trigger her._ Marisol comes around the island to stand close to you, and you spin on your seat so that you can look her in the face. She smells like garlic and rosemary and cooking wine. She tilts your head up, and her eyes meet yours. They are dark and warm and intelligent. You wonder if there is anything she doesn't know.

_But Marisol sees. You hold back to not hurt, but she hurts. She thinks she is ugly. She thinks what she has done to make this pretty, golden girl not __want__to touch her. She follow you everywhere… anywhere. _

Marisol shrugs._ And you let her go._

Oh my God.

Oh. My. God. You look up at Marisol, wide eyes. You're sure you must look panicked. You think maybe your blood has all turned to ice water. You feel frozen to your seat.

_Oh. Marisol. Oh God. _Your brain is rebooting, coming back to words so slowly it's painful. You look down at your feet. Willing them. They don't move. Tears come instead.

Marisol pulls you close to her. She wraps you up in her hug and it seems to spark feeling back into your limbs. _You are not so different. Both with people who let you go. Both with people who have failed you. _You listen through your tears, trying to make out who in your life has let you down as fully as the people in Jane's history. _But you are strong. You are strong strong. Don't fail each other. _

Strong. From Marisol. You believe it. She lets you go, and you jump off the stool.

_Go. _She nods and you only hesitate for one more moment before you leave the kitchen.

_Thank you, Marisol. _It is not enough. It does not begin to come close.

She points a spoon at you. Looks you square in the face.

_Hold on tight._

…

She's still at her desk when you push open the door, bent over her tablet. _Jane._

She makes a motion like flicking off a fly. You swallow, move over to her. _Jane. _When you put her hands on her shoulders, she tenses, but you don't let go. You lean over and you kiss her temple.  
She doesn't move.

You open your eyes and look down at what she's drawing. You feel your hands tighten on her shoulders. _Oh…baby. _

It's a girl. With long, dark hair and deep, sad eyes. She's naked, arms crossed over her chest. But all up her legs, standing out, black and blue like bruises, are words.

_ugly. _

_slut_

_bitch_

_mine. _

No! You pull her away from her computer, the show of strength startling both of you. God. No. Explain to her! _You're not any of those things, Jane. _You force the tears away. You take her hands. She won't look at you so you take her face. _You are…_You stop abruptly. You almost said it.

Her eyes widen a little bit, and you wonder what she's thinking. You wonder if she thinks you stopped because you don't actually think she's attractive at all. You think about what Marisol said.

You put your lips against hers, wrapping your arms around her waist. Hard.

_You are beautiful. _

She jerks away, and the noise she makes is like a sob. You don't let her go. _No. No, listen…_You hold on tight. _You are beautiful. I love you so much and I think you are beautiful. Nothing can change that. _

She struggles away from you. You follow. _Nothing._ Now you're going to cry.

When she nearly throws herself onto the bed, you follow her, wrapping your arms around her, kissing any part of her you can find. _I love you._ Again and again and again. _You are beautiful. He couldn't take that away from you. Let me tell you until you feel it again. You're beautiful and you are strong. _

Your hands ghost up her biceps to hold her shoulders.

You don't know how you ended up straddling her.

She looks up at you. Tearstained and terrified. For the first time, you wonder if you've been misinterpreting that fear.

You lean down and you kiss her. Your hands are at the zipper of her sweatshirt. She sits up so she can help you.

You're going to die. Your lips don't leave her. They travel down, down the delicious curve of her neck. _Oh God. You are exquisite. You are beautiful. You are. You are. _

Your hands find hers and you pull off her gloves. You pull back and take her hand, kissing the palms, feeling her tense and relax.

_Oh. _Her sigh is heaven.

You nod. Bend down and slip your hands under her shirt. Almost without hesitation, she sits up and you pull it off of her.

_I'm part of you._ You put your head against her collarbone. _I am part of you, and when it hurts you. I hurt too…I-I…_

But you lose your words when she puts her hands on your shoulders. She pulls you closer, and puts her mouth against your ear.

_I want to show you. _Her voice is tremulous. Afraid. _Please…please…_ But she doesn't finish, and you want to ask please what? You would do anything.

But she pushes you away, and reaches down between the two of you.

She slips herself out of the yoga pants she has on, and looks up into your face.

But you don't see her expression.

You're looking at what she's done. And at what she's revealed.

…

The first two words are faded. Old and pale, though still clearly legible against her skin.

**ugly**

**slut**

The next one is newer. And the technique (you think that word in your head, and immediately you hate yourself) is better. More practiced.

**bitch**

Part of you wonders what he used. A scalpel would slice too thin. Would not leave this type of scarring for this long.

The last one is the newest. The meanest. You know it must have been done the day you let her go home. After the rain.

**mine**

And under that. Just one letter. Still pink and healing. Just the letter f.

Korsak must have interrupted him.

You reach out without hesitating. She's been holding her breath. You realize this is the least clothed you've seen her, ever. Just a bra and underwear.

Arousal flips over in your stomach, even as you scold yourself for feeling it.

Your hand caresses the inside of her thigh, ghosting over the words carved into her skin.

_Please._ She says, and her eyes are closed.

You lean down to kiss her, and your surprised by how quickly she responds. How fiercely.

_You are beautiful. _Between kisses. _so fucking beautiful. _You can't tell if it's the swear word that makes her gasp.

When your hands finally find her face, you feel her cheeks are wet. _You are. Oh, God. I think. That you are beautiful. Nothing will change that. Nothing. _

Your mouth finds a soft smooth spot at the base of her ear, and when you kiss it, she jerks up against you, gasping.

_Maura. _Begging.

For half of a second, you think of Marisol.

You redouble your hold, and you kiss the same spot again. She jerks again. A moan like a whine. Resisting.

She is everything you thought you'd never feel.

You are the only thing she needs to be complete.

You nod.

You hold on tight.

_Come on pretty girl. Come on beautiful. _She pants. Eyes shut tight. _Come on, sweetheart. _

She pulls back and opens her eyes. She looks at you and you know.

You call her to you. You call her what she is.

_Jane. _You lean forward and kiss her neck. You press yourself against her. _Jane. Come home. _

She shatters.

You can feel the parts of her shift and scatter under your hands.

You hold them all together.

You shut your eyes.

.  
Everything melts away.

* * *

_**ten more chapters. you in?**_


	26. Chapter 26

**tiny trigger warning**

* * *

You wake up next to her and she's already awake, green eyes watching you intently.

_Hi._

She bites her lip, holding in a nervous smile. _Hi there, sweet girl._

God. You love her.

But she frowns a little, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear. _Are you alright? I mean…last night… _She blushes, but looks concerned. _Did I hurt you? _

You shake your head, and your face gets warm too as last night comes back to you. _No…it felt…_Your blush gets deeper.

Words are inadequate.

_I'm sorry if I was_ what are the words you want? You glance at her, and she's shaking her head, but waiting. Letting you finish. focus! _Out of control?_ You offer this almost like a question. _I just wanted you…against me._ Oh, God. Kill you.

Her sharp intake of breath makes you cringe away without looking at her, ashamed. You did the wrong thing. You knew it. You did the wrong thing last night and you're saying the wrong thing now.

But her hands come, out, slipping into your hair, _Hey._ Her voice is soft and sweet and the only thing you need in the world. _Hey. _You open your eyes. She's grinning. _It was wonderful. You don't have anything to feel bad about. Sharing grief or anger or any number of strong emotions, can often lead to heightened arous-_

Ew. No. You pull away, make a face. _Yuck, Maur. Don't use that word._ You don't know if you are protesting because you really don't like it, or because it makes something pleasant happen in the bottom of your stomach.

She looks at you, put out. _Okay…Uh…I mean, after you share emotionally with someone you're…um…attracted to? _You nod. She continues, trying to choose words carefully. _Well, it's natural to want to be that close to them physically. And the most common way to do that is through orgas-_

_NO! _You pull back abruptly, and her eyes go wide and surprised. _God! Maura, don't say that word either. _You put your hands over your face, which feels like it's on fire. _Jesus. _

You hear her giggle, scooting closer to you again. She takes your hands away from her face but you don't open your eyes. Her lips on yours take your breath away.

_Okay. _Her tone is playful. _Well…I am in love with you. _You catch your breath. _And I very much enjoyed being…against you, too._

And you wrap your arms around her and bury your face in her neck, so that she can only feel that maybe your eyes are a little wet.

_Love you, Maur._ The best you can come up with.

_I love you too, Jane._

…

Somewhere over Wyoming, Richard has the blonde Newscaster, whose name turns out to be Amanda Barnes, terminated from her job.

Marisol flips the little TV in the kitchen on at breakfast and points to it as you both sit down at the breakfast bar.

**And of course, 60 minutes would like to take a moment to personally apologize to the victim, her friends and her family. No harm was meant in the production and airing of the program, and we are truly, deeply sorry if we have hindered her recovery in any way, shape or form.**

Marisol hits the mute button, snorting, turning to put a bowl of oatmeal in front of you. _Yeah, right. Sorry not sorry. _She shakes her head, almost spittng. _Hinder recovery! Like they could hinder small tiny in anything! _She hands you a spoon. _She is brilliant! Eat, little girl, you had nothing yesterday. _

You raise the spoon, but it's like there's an iron fist around your throat. You look up at Marisol. She smiles. _Hey. They cannot hinder this heart._ She presses a crooked finger against your chest. _ Not for anything. _

You put the oatmeal in your mouth. It tastes like family.

_Your parents request I keep you home today. They are coming as fast as airplanes can take them. They are…_Marisol waves her hands in the air, looking for the appropriate word. _They are full._

You look at Maura, eyes wide, to ask what that means, but there's something hard and glinting in her eyes, like satisfaction, or anger, or a mixture of the two. Something dangerous and fiery and ready.

You think maybe she is full too. You think maybe it runs in the family.

When she looks at you though, whatever it is disappears.

She grins at you and her free hand runs along the back of your neck and you see nothing but love.

You eat more.

…

Her parents hug her hard.

You hear the car doors slam, and Constance calling out her name, and before you know it, the two of you are running to the door, and down the steps.

Richard catches Maura like she's a little girl, lifts her off her feet, and she holds onto him. Hard. _Daddy. _

Constance puts her hands out to you. Offering. _Hello, Jane. _

You take a step, but your legs lock up. You can't. You want to. But you can't.

But she doesn't look disappointed. She smiles gently, turns to accept Maura's hug as Richard lets her go.

You are half happy half consumed with jealousy. You want to hug them. You know they would let you.

But you can't make your feet move.

_Dad, did you fire that woman from the plane?_ Richard's face goes hard at his daughter's question, but he looks you right in the eye when he answers.

_Yes. I did. _

Maura nods, so does Constance. _Good._ Your girlfriend smiles at you. _Good._

Your heart hurts in an awfully sweet sort of way.

...

Your father announces that he will take Maura to school.

No.

You shift nervously from foot to foot, replaying that in your head. Making it right.

Richard announces that he will take Maura to school. Her father says… You look down at your feet, frowning. Her father…Richard, tells you that the boy who taunted you has been expelled, and rather than repeat the action, the school has decided to have an assembly. On you

You feel your throat constrict, and when Maura reaches for you, you flinch. She puts her hand on your shoulder anyway. Squeezing.

_They think that if they address it. Let people know they are not, under any circumstances to threaten, taunt, tease, or anything else along those lines… _Richard is watching your face, frowning. _I don't like it…but it might be the only way…after that travesty masquerading as a news program…So Maura and I will go in for the assembly around lunch…and we'll be back shortly thereafter. _You nod, and hold your breath, so the ground will stop shifting. _Jane. What is it?_

You try to find the words you want but it's like playing operation inside your head. Every time you get close to an emotion, something buzzes and jerks you away. But Richard waits patiently, and you try again. _I don't want that. _

Constance tilts her head to the side. _Don't want what, sweetheart?_

You look at Maura, who nods encouragingly. _ I don't want that boy expelled. Because of me. He didn't hurt me._

For a moment, no one speaks, and you are just starting to panic that you've said the wrong thing when Richard opens his mouth. _Come here, Jane._

You move towards him on stiff legs. You scold yourself. You shouldn't still be so afraid of him. But you are. He seems to understand this, and so when you get close to him, he puts his hands on his knees, in plain sight. He looks up at you.

_You have been taught that other people using you is okay. _He waits for a moment, letting that sink in. _But it is not. You are…_ He pauses here, and you look at him sharply, sure he is going to call you his daughter. But he changes tack, shaking his head. _He __did__ hurt you. And he made you feel unsafe. And I can't let that go. _

You can't stop the question before it comes. _Why?_

He glances at Constance, and then back at you. _Because you are part of my family. And I care about you._

You consider this for a moment. Rolling the sensation around in your brain like a new type of food. Care. About you. It doesn't taste like anything you've ever heard before. _Not like Charles cared about me._

Richard's jaw tightens, but he reaches out and takes your hand. _Charles Hoyt did not care about you, Jane._ He says this carefully, and you notice that his hand tightens ever so slightly around yours. As if he is scared you are going to bolt.

You don't bolt.

You realize that you are not afraid that he will hit you. You are afraid that he will not love you as much as you need him to. You are afraid that none of them can love you as much as you need them to.

It is a new fear. You have never felt it before.

You don't like it.

You squeeze his hand back, nodding, because he's looking up at you, waiting for a response. Charles Hoyt did not care about you. _Yeah. _

You nod again. _Yeah…I know. _

…

Angela. Maura and Richard are gone to the school, and you pull open the door half hoping they just forgot their keys.

But it's not either of the Isles.

You pull the door open on…Your…Angela. Your…

She smiles. You don't smile back. _What are you doing here?_ Constance calls your name from the kitchen, asks who it is, but your words get stuck in your throat and you don't answer.

This is your. This is. She's…  
Angela.

You are feeling a lot of things, most of them deep and hard and hurting, like swallowing marbles.

You stare at the woman in front of you. She looks nervous. She opens her mouth to answer you, but Constance comes at that moment, and Angela takes a step backwards…afraid.

_What do you want. _It is not a question. Constance puts her hand on your shoulder, and her tone is clearly saying 'there is nothing here for you.'

You are uncomfortable. This hurts. You look up at your mother.

No. at Constance.

You look up at Constance.

This hurts. You want to be gone. This…

_Can I go to my room?_

Constance looks at you. She appraises you. It is not the reaction she was expecting. _Of course you can._

But you don't. You climb the stairs to the first bend, and you sit down out of sight.

And you listen.

.

_What is it you want. _The same hard tone. Constance's voice is like slamming the door.

_I-I thought I could talk to her…I thought she might need-want to see me. _

_You thought she might need you now? You came here thinking she might need you…now? _Incredulous, disbelieving. You hold your breath.

_I know I don't have much of a right._

_You do not have any rights at all, legally or otherwise. Not when it comes to Jane. _

From her. Your name deserves respect.

_I-I just…The newscast….I watched…_

_I see. So you are here to…what. Offer your support?  
_Silence. You stare at your shoe laces, trying to keep breathing and not pass out. You want to hear what your… You want to hear what Angela wants. You want to hear what Constance will give her.

_I know you must hate me. Must think I'm an awful mother._

_I despise you. _No mercy. _And you are correct. _None at all. _You abandoned your child. _

_I did not have a choice. _Angela is going to cry. You can hear it in your voice and it pulls at a part of you that you thought was dead. You want to go to her, Angela. Your…mother?

_There is ALWAYS a choice. _

_You think that. You sit here in your mansion with your driver and your husband and your money, and you look down on me because you think that I am a monster. You think that what I did was so horrible. Should I have given them to the system? Would that have been better? Should I have moved them around and around, dodging bill collectors and landlords? I was trying to do what was __best__ for her. _There is a hint of desperation in Angela's voice now. Like she's told people this before. Like the world is the enemy for not believing her. You don't know what you believe. She takes a breath. _What should I have done? Should I have-_

_YOU SHOULD HAVE COME BACK FOR HER._ Constance's voice is louder than you've ever heard. Hoarse and furious._ The moment you knew, the moment you even suspected that he was putting his hands on her, you should have come back. She was your __daughter__. _You look up suddenly. You have not missed her choice of words.

_I…I couldn't…Charles said- _

_I don't give a damn about what that monster said to you. I buy that you thought she would be safer. I buy that you thought you were doing the right thing by letting him take her. But the moment that school called you and told you she had bruises…You should have come for her. _

_She never said- _Angela tries again, but Constance will not be moved. Her voice rings up the stairs like a warning bell. Appalled.

_Do you KNOW your child at all? Do you __know__ her? She would rather die than think that she's putting anyone out. She vacuums her own room and cleans her own bathroom so that the maid doesn't have to. You really think she was going to ask you to give up whatever life you had and come home to her?_

_She's strong. _

_She's had to be. You nearly killed her. _

_Charles nearly killed her. _

There is a pause in which you hear the floor creak, and you wonder if Constance has stepped forward, or if your mother has moved back. _You gave her to him. You left her there. You didn't come home. I blame you as much as I blame him. _Constance switches almost immediately to dismissive. She is done. _What is it you want?_

_I…I need to ask Jane…something. _

_What?_

_I would rather discuss that with-_

_If you think you have any say over whether or not you get to talk to her, you are sorely mistaken. _

_She…She's mine. _Hers. You close your eyes. _She's my daughter._

_No._ The conviction in Constance's voice makes you lift your head. What she says next makes your mouth drop open. _No, _Constance says. _She is not. _

_She is __my__ daughter._

Silence. Or maybe you've gone deaf. Either is a possibility. 

_What is it you want?_ No. You can hear. And Constance just called you her child. You stand up.

_I've been asked…to do a guest spot…Dr. Phil…He assures me that we won't talk about any of the…of the…trauma. Just…our relationship before…get to know the person behind the-_

_If you're coming to ask if she would be alright with it…the answer is no. I can certainly ask her, and relay the message, which will be no, but-_

_No. _Angela is rushing now. Tripping over words. Getting to the meat of her visit._ I mean…That's not why…I mean…the offer he made me… It triples if Jane would…I mean. If she'd consider coming on…with me. _

The sentence nearly knocks you back down. You grip the railing hard, listening to the silence. And then.

_…You atrocious, repulsive bitch. _

_w-what? _Angela. Flustered.

_I called you a bitch, though that is an insult to the canine species. You are foul. That girl is not some cash cow that you can ride all the way to easy street… I can't…Did you _Anger is rendering her speechless_…Did you feel __anything__ when you watched that news cast?_

_I-I don't-_

_You gave birth to her. You birthed her and they wrapped her in a blanket and they cleaned her and they brought her to you, and you held her and you felt love like you would never feel again. Not ever. You made an implicit promise to protect her._ You wonder if she is still talking about you.

_She's alive. She's not-_

_What did you feel when you saw that mattress? _

_The wha-_

_Did you picture your little girl? Half dead, bleeding and starving? I sure as hell did. It made me physically sick, and I could not get on a plane fast enough to come home and put my eyes on her. Reassure myself. Every time I closed my eyes on the plane I saw her curled up and shivering because it's the middle of the winter, crying, probably for you-_

_Stop it. _Angela sounds frantic

_DID YOU EVEN LOOK AT IT? Do you even care that she was almost dead on that thing multiple times. For years. Because. Of. You. _Your face is wet. You are breathing hard. You want your mother. You want her arms around you. But she's speaking again._ You have failed her. I will not let you fail her again. _

_Well I guess that's something we have in common. _Angela's voice is biting. _Failing our children. Tell me something… Why do you get a second chance, and not me?_

.

Later. When you slow it down in your head, it is like snap shots.

You don't remember rounding the corner of the stairs and jumping the last five, though an already forming bruise on your knee says you did. You don't remember any of the obscenities Maura says you were screaming as she and her father pulled up in the driveway.

You don't remember either of them sprinting up the sidewalk, or Angela, backing up, wide eyed as you lunged at her.

But you remember Constance's arms wrapping around your shoulder and under your arm. Locking around your chest to hold you back. And you remember how you pointed a finger right at Angela's heart.

_It's not the fucking same. You leave my mother alone. Don't you dare! _

You remember Angela's face when she realized that you were not talking about her.

You remember shapes like blurs, and how you'd started to cry and when you closed your eyes, the fear and pain were like sparklers dancing on your eye lids. You remember being terrible. Being terribly afraid.

_Calm down. calm down, Janie, calm down. I'm fine. I'm alright._ Constance. Your mother. Her voice is in your ear, and you only have senses for her.

You spun in her arms and when she pulled you closer, you were babbling immediately. You're breaking and it's hard and hurting and loud and wonderful. _Mom. I don't want to go. Please. Don't give me to him. Please. Please please please. I will be so good. I won't need anything. Please. _

Twelve. Alone.

You remember that her hands tightened around you. Protective. _I'm here, honey. It's alright. No one's going to take you away from us. You're okay. _

Thirteen. Alone. _He hurts me. He hurts me. I can't stop him. I don't want him… Mom…I'm not a slut._

Fourteen and Fifteen.

Alone.

_No. God. No you're not. You're wonderful. Jane. Sweetheart. Look at me. _You remember it took everything you had inside you to open your eyes. You remember fear.

Her eyes are blue. Pretty and fierce and you have the idea that she could see right through you if you wanted.

_Mom._ You remember that it's all that you could manage.

_It's okay, honey. You're here. With me. You're safe. _

You remember that your mother says you are safe.

Finally. You are.

…

Bed with her is like reclamation. Like recovery like romance like repossession.

Tiny little deaths. Tiny little rebirths.

You wear boy shorts and a tank top and she wears a t-shirt and shorts. You like to slip your legs in between her legs. She is smooth and perfect. You like to make her sigh.

_Maura?_ You have practiced these words in the shower. Your voice still shakes.

She purrs against your neck, and you shiver. _Maur?_

She pulls back, eyes lazy heavy. _Yah?_

You take a deep breath. _I have a new fear. _She pulls away to look at you, alert, her eyes endless and deep in the half light from the hall.

_Tell me._

You close your eyes. _What if you leave me?_ Nope. Too vague. You cut her off as she starts to respond. _What if you can't control it, or you stop loving me…that __happens__, Maur._ You forestall her protest. _What if I need too much from you? What if…_you open your eyes and look at the ceiling. _I want to protect you…What if something hurts you, and I can't protect you?_

There's a silence for a long time, and you think maybe you waited too long and she is asleep.

_Do you love me?_ Her voice makes you jump _Are you in love with me?_

You nod. _Yes. _

She breathes big against you. Your stomach tightens. _If you knew one of those things was going to happen. If you had a crystal ball…Would you love me anyway?_

You bite your lip, feeling panic shoot through your bloodstream. Her voice comes again. By your ear. _Would you keep loving me anyway, Jane?_

You nod. And it's the truth. You speak it to her. _Yes. Yes yes. _

She presses herself against your side, and her lips linger on your ear. _Then put it from your mind. _Her hand traces your ribs. You feel warm and content and loved. _Put it from your mind. And kiss me._

You roll over.  
And you do.

* * *

_**for davislp. i would update hourly if i could.  
love you guys. honestly. i can't describe the depths of my gratitue. i love. you. guys.  
fluff is coming (although this should almost count...) **_


	27. Chapter 27

Nothing in your life has prepared you for this.

You spent years of your life trying to close your emotions off.

No, it does not hurt to leave your friends behind. No, you do not feel isolated. Yes. You understand, and no, a month is not really so long.

Of Course, you would love to tutor children three grades higher than you.

But this.

You are consumed with her. You cannot get enough. Even when she is not there she pulls at you. She swims behind your eyes. She glows inside of you. She grows.

You are full of her. You cannot let her go.

She gets stronger and stronger. You do not know what she does each weekend with Detective Korsak, but she is strong and fearsome and gorgeous and you are breathless that you get to call her yours…

Yours.

Her mother's trial is coming up. Angela Rizzoli is pleading not guilty to three counts of child endangerment, one of child abuse, and fourteen of criminal negligence.

The prosecution is calling daily, asking for Jane's assistance. They need her to testify.

She ignores them. Completely. And when you go to ask her about it, she fixes you with a look that is somewhere between fury and terror and you let it go.

Her hands are coming back, and she can use a pencil for twenty minutes. Thirty five. An hour. If you toss her a ball, she can catch it without wincing.

It makes you happy and petrified.

But still, the first thing she does with this refound ability is sketch you.

The drawing is shaky, and wispy, a little out of control… and beautiful.

It is quite different from the dark confident drawings that still hang over her desk, but it's your eyes peering up at you off the paper. Your windblown hair and your surprised, delighted smile.

It is more beautiful than anything you've seen her do in the past.

She holds it out to you, bashful, eyebrows raised hopefully, waiting for your approval.

_I'm not as good as I used to be._

How do you tell her that the pieces of herself that she's salvaged. The girl that is emerging and that you are discovering now is almost better than anything you'd imagined.

You want to hold onto her. It is wonderful, sitting there with her. Just the two of you like before. You wish it could be like that always.

You want to tell her she is like a phoenix. You don't know how she does it. But she leans close to you and you smile, forgetting. _Do you think that I'll get back there? To where I was?_

You look at her, incredulous, and she searches your face for the answer, her eyes hopeful and dark and sweet and oh. God.

You fall a little.

_You are already there. This is wonderful. It's beautiful. Do you know how much I love you?_

You don't mean it to come out, but damn it, every time you look at her, you remember her tensing in your arms, and the sweet, tiny gasp in your ear as she let go, pressing up and into you, soft and vulnerable and…

_Are you going to testify? Jane?_

She glances up at you, eyes like steel.

You want to reach for her, apologize, but she's struggling to her feet, the buzzing of her phone on her bed pulling her away. Barry or Alissa. Riley.

You frown.

.

When she is away from you. You are all aching, and nothing else.

…

You sit with your mother while Jane is at the park. The snow is gone and Barry wants to play soccer.

Your mother had taken her through the checklist, both a little stumbling in their new roles. Your mother as someone who parents, your girlfriend as a child who is parented. They eyed each other…a little bit confused.

_Hat? Gloves? Real gloves, Jane, it's cold out. _You stood on the bottom step, watching.

_Phone? Money, just in case?_

Jane had hopped up and down on the doorstep, all normal teenage girl. Excited and whole and…not one part yours.

_Yes. Yes. Can I go? You sure you don't want to come, Maura?_

You wanted her to stay with you. You'd shaken your head as your mother nodded, and she'd turned away.

_Two hours, Jane._ Your mother's voice was something like stern.

_Okay m…Okay. _Regardless of what happened two days ago, she still can't really bring herself to do it. Your mother's face was half saddened, a quarter understanding, a quarter hurt.

You felt a swoop of satisfaction.

But then she'd turned to you. _Let's talk. I've wanted to talk to you for a while, now. _And you were all one feeling.

Nervous.

She wants to talk about Jane. You just know it.

So the two of you sit together on the couch, and your mother reaches to take your hand.

_It's clear you love her very much_. Your whole body is tight. You are too worried to feel how worried you are. Too scared to register your fear.

_You cannot ask me not to_. You want to be very clear about this. She brought your parents home to you, but you would banish them from your life forever if they tried to take her from you now. _You cannot ask me not to love her. _

She frowns. _I would never ask that of you Maura_…Your mother looks uncomfortable. Or is that anger? Despair? You are having trouble reading anything over the pounding of your heart. _I would never. But this is different….the way you two have come to be together. How she has come to live with us._

You raise one eyebrow. _It is wonderful_.

_It is…complicated._ Uncomfortable. Your mother is uncomfortable. Fear is like ants on your scalp. You repeat yourself.

_You cannot ask me not to love her._ You almost say will. You will not ask me not to love her.

You bite your tongue.

She repeats herself as well. _I am not. I am asking you to respect me, and your father. If she were a boy. If this were any type of normal situation…_

You try to hold your anger in check, because this is your mother, and you love her, and she has just explained to you that she is not going to send her away. But this is Jane she is talking about. And panic is paramount. _But it is not. She is not a normal type of girl and the way I feel is not the normal type of feelings. They are not feelings at all._

You hold onto your fingers until your knuckles are white.

_Maura…calm down. I'm asking you to understand the situation. If not for me and your father than for you. For __her__. Sex is not a decision that either of you are prepared-_

But you will not hear it. You will not hear this. _Do you know what her skin is like? Do you know what it's like to touch her skin?_ Any other time these sentences would make you blush. You wouldn't say this to your mother under any other circumstances. _Do you know what it's like to hold her when she…to actually watch her decide to trust me?_

Your mother looks surprised and then unsurprised. Tired. _I understand that you feel-_

_It is not a feeling._ You space each word out so that there can be no mistake. You are livid. _It just is. It just is inside me._

Your mother is patient. She regards you curiously. Sadly. _I know that the way you two found each other might make it seem…might make it feel bigger-_

You grit your teeth. _It. Is not. A feeling_.

A sigh. _Maura…honey. Sex is a very complicated thing to navigate, even for adults. And when someone has experienced the type of abuse that Jane-_

_Don't you dare put your mouth on her. _Where did that come from, that growl? Has it always been inside of you and you are just now able to pull it out? You would protect this feeling with everything you have. _You don't know what she's been through. _

You love your mother. but you love that girl.

You _love_ her.

_Don't you talk about her like you know what she's been through. Don't you…_

Your mother's face is slipping to concern now. Real concern. _Maura. sweetheart. You need to calm down. I'm not telling you can't see her. Or even that you can't love her and kiss her, or even that she can't sleep in your bed, or you in hers…on occasion. I'm just saying that your mindset might be different-_

You stand up, willing yourself not to cry. You will not cry. _No. _The force of that one word alone brings your mother to her feet too, her eyebrows pushed together in surprise. And worry. She's worried.

And you're breathing hard. _I would __never__ hurt her._

Your mother is shaking her head. _I know you wouldn't darling. I know._ Hands out to placate you. _I'm saying that she loves you. She wants to make you happy. She-_

You might stamp your foot, although whether it's at her words or your own weakness, you don't know. You want to be brave and stoic like Jane. Like your mother.

Isles women do not cry.

_I need her. I need to be able to show her I love her. So she doesn't tire of me and say good-bye. I need her in my bed so that I can show her…So that I can. So that…So that I can hold onto her. _You make fists. _So she does not leave me._

Your mother reaches out for you, and her hand closing around your arm is firmer than you would have imagined. _Maura. _Soft from her lips, it's your name and when was the last time she said it like that. _Honey. We never meant to leave you._

It's not what you've been talking about until suddenly…it is.

The memory of hugging your parents good-bye as they left is like blinking. It replays on the backs of your eyelids over and over. You shudder.

She pulls you to her with enough force that you both fall back onto the couch, you almost in her lap. Your hands shoot out to push at her, but you find that you're pulling her instead. Pulling her closer.

_She's getting better._ You choke a little. The words are like vinegar and sugar. Bitter. Sweet. _She's better._

Your mother rubs up and down your back. _It's terrifying. _She fills in, and you can only nod. You feel her nod too. _I know. I know your father and I have not given you reason to believe this. _She pauses, thinking. You wait.

_But you can let go a little. And she will not leave. And the two of you will be better for it._

You sniff, eyes wet cheeks dry. _How do you know?_ You need the answer. The only one she can give you. _How do you know?_

She smooths your hair. _I am your mother. I see things you don't…and I know everything. _

You sit like that for a long time, eye closed, until she speaks again. _I was thinking we might try therapy._ You shift so you can look at her. She's looking back, steady. _It seems foolish to pretend that this does not affect us._

You lean back against her and you don't say anything.

Your mother tenses, looking over you like she's seen something in the hall. But when you turn your head to look...

There's nothing there.

…

She herds you into the car, ignoring your questions about where you're going, why she's come back from the park so early, why she's dressed like she's going to work out.

But the car ride is short, and when you pull up to the precinct, there are too many questions in your throat for you to get any of them out.

A woman officer grins as she comes in. _Korsak's already suiting up. _She nods at you. _Kick him hard for me, Rizzoli._

She smiles and pulls you towards the rec room.

_Jane…what are. _But all your words leave you when you see Detective Korsak. When you see what he's wearing and you put the pieces together.

She turns to you, her eyes scanning your face. _Do you trust me?_

You swallow, _This is what you've been doing? Fighting?_ You look up to see her face register panic for a moment.

_Maur? Do you trust me?_

You close your eyes for longer than it takes to blink. _Yes. _

She takes your hand, and you feel her lips across your knuckles. _This is how I get stronger. _Her voice is like pleading. _This is how I stay with you. _

You open your eyes and look at her. She's scared.

You take a breath. _Okay._ You drop her hand and step back. _Show me._

…

When it's over, you are lightheaded from not breathing, and sweaty from hyperventilating, and your lip hurts from how hard you've been biting it.

She comes up to you, breathing heavily, and looks in your face, searching.

You open your mouth but there are too many emotions vying for words. You are inarticulate. You are unable. She is everything.

You swallow, blinking, and you can see her, muscles flexing, sparring with Korsak hard. Him barely holding back. Jane giving it her all.

She will best him soon. You know it.

_I'm not a monster._ Her voice, tentative and soft, jars you out of your thoughts.

_What? _Your brain is slow to catch up, and you realize that she's taken your silence for disapproval or anger or…

You sputter. _No! That was…That was…_Amazing. Beautiful. Exhilarating, hot, terrifying, arousing, magnificent. Pick one.

Pick any one of those and tell her.

_YouareIloveyou. _Damn it. Well she is. That's the best you can do.

You feel your face getting warm. You look down at your shoes, trying to control yourself, and when you look back up she's grinning at you, a cocky, mischievous grin that you've come to recognize as unique to her.

She leads you over to the high stools by the far wall, her hand in yours is hot, and her shoulders still rise and fall rapidly as her breathing regulates.

she puts her hands around your waist and lifts you, and her eyebrows crease a little bit, but she doesn't wince, and she sets you down on a stool, and you know she is showing you, 'look. I'm fine. I'm alright.'

You smile.

When you are sitting, she steps closer to you, and you wrap your arms around her neck. She smells like sweat and artificial melon body wash. She shivers a little, then starts to speak.

_It's the scariest thing in the world to think that someone is going to leave you._

You know immediately. You pull back. _You heard me talking to my mom. _

She doesn't answer. Just leans forward to snuffle against your neck, and the peel of laughter it pulls from you sounds like it has come from someone different. Someone carefree.

Someone happy.

_Maura. I don't love you because you saved my life._ Her whisper is by your ear. You sigh. _I'm glad you saved my life because it means I have more time to love you._

You open your mouth to say something, but she bites your earlobe hard enough to make you lose your thoughts. _I don't have to…_A pause, a deep breath…._be against you, every night for you to hold onto me. _

She pulls away and you look into her face. Earnest and sweet. Confident. Something occurs to you. Pulls at the back of your brain. Your eyes widen as it bubbles to the surface.

_Are you going to testify, Jane?_

She bites her lip. _Will you go to therapy? _You lean back away from her, closing your eyes, and she puts her hand on your face. _I love you. _Her voice is firm and honest. It tells you the truth.

_It is not a betrayal that this has hurt you._

Your eyes snap open. She tilts her head. _It makes me love you more._

There is not one word in any language you know that can describe the way you feel for her.

_Hey. Rizzoli! _An officer you don't recognize. Young and dirty blonde. _You gonna battle?_

You look at her, confused and concerned, and she grins, _Sit up wars. _She runs her hands down your arms. Like comfort. _I came in third last time. _She grins.

You love her.

_Rizzoli! _Impatient. She spins towards the sound, arms out. Attitude.

_I'm __talkin__ to my girl! _Her girl. You can't breathe for a moment, as the words wing around the room like sparrows. Her girl. her girl. She turns back, sheepish, then surprised at the grin on your face.

But she sobers, like she understands. Leans forward like she would kiss you. _Everything I do. Is to stay with you, Maura. _Serious. A last attempt.

You push her back by her shoulders, find her eyes. _Are you going to testify, Jane?_

She cocks her head. _Will you go to therapy?_

Your turn to bite your lip. Behind her, you can see the mats getting laid out for the battle. Women and men coming down the stairs, chatting. Some of them call out to her. She doesn't take her eyes off you.

Her girl.

_If you breathe out on up, and in on down, it oxidizes the blood more efficiently. You should be able to pull out a second place finish…at least. _

Her smile is amazing, and it must be just for you, because when she steps back, she is smirking. Her voice is low, growling. It goes right through you. _Yes ma'am. _

She turns away, calling out that they should set one up for her. The young officer lets out a whoop. He can't be four years older than you. She turns back to you, as if looking for something to ground her.

Like she's looking for home.

_Love you, Maur._

You touch your index finger to your heart, and then you point at hers. You lick your lips and her eyes go dark, waiting.

You swallow, flicking your eyes to the mat they've set up for her.

_Prove it._

* * *

**_listen to me, you magnificent amazing humans._****_ There is not one review that 'get's lost in the shuffle.' Not one review that I 'probably won't read.'  
I read each and every one, from guest to old hand, and I love and respect and am in awe of each one. Each one means so so so much to me, and you cannot imagine what it means that you take the time to type words or support or concern or critique or...god. praise. In this medium, where you are only as good as what you did 15 minutes ago, that you take the time to say it means something to you is amazing. And I would never marginalize that. every. _**

_**much love.**_

_**tc **_


	28. Chapter 28

You're waiting for Barry and Maura outside of school, bouncing a hacky sack back and forth between your feet.

Alissa is waiting with you. Leaning against the wall, watching. _You're good at that._

You look up at her, grinning, but a couple of kids come out of the door at that moment, and when they see you, they rush past, looking away. You let the hacky sack fall to the ground…sitting down on the stairs.

The assembly has effectively stopped people talking about you.

And to you.

And around you.

Alissa sits down next to you. _It wasn't so bad._ She can read your face. Or your mind. Same thing.

You shrug. Uncomfortable because she's not Maura and she's not Frost, and she might almost be Frost's girl, but that doesn't mean you trust her. _It didn't make them hate you, though. _Her voice is quiet. _It just made it more…_

_Real._ You fill in for her. She nods.

She is sitting close enough to you that you could bump shoulders, but you notices that she holds herself so she won't. It makes you a little happy and a little sad. She chuckles after a moment. _And_ _Ms. Grow was a fucking Boss._

You look around at her. _Ms. Grow spoke?_

Your favorite teacher has been ignoring you. Possibly avoiding you, you cannot be sure. Here is a reason for why.

Panic is in your throat like something bitter. _What did she say?_

Alissa doesn't answer for a moment. You sit next to her, waiting for the others, and you realize it's nice. Sitting here with her. Not awkward or forced or uncomfortable.

Just nice.

_Barry recorded it. _It bursts out of her like it's against her will. Then, slower, _ Do you want to see?_

.

The video is wobbly and covert. Shot on a phone held close to the hip, and you have to turn the screen sideways to orient it.

You watch as the principal steps up, telling the students to hush. They do so grudgingly, more intent on trading rumors than hearing the truth. Your stomach heaves a little bit.

The principal opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, you hear Ms. Grow's voice ring out. _May I say something, before you begin, Principal Gundrum?_

Ms. Grow steps into the frame. She looks pale and unsure, but when she steps up to the podium and puts her hands on either side of the microphone, they do not shake.

She looks out at the sea of faces, and the hall gets deadly quiet. Everyone loves Ms. Grow. They want to hear what she has to say.

_I know why you think we've called this assembly. You think that we have called it to tell you to leave Jane Rizzoli alone. _Her voice is strong. A trumpet call._ You think that the principal is going to get up here, and answer your awful, ridiculous questions, and you are going to slouch in your seats and snicker behind your hands, and your thirst for details, about a life you have __no business being interested in__, will be satisfied. _  
She stares at them all, and you stare down at the phone, and you can feel Alissa's eyes on you, watching you watching her staring out at them.

You feel dizzy.

_You think what happened to Joseph Grant was unwarranted._ She spits his name like it's poisoning her.

_He was just teasing, and now he's most likely got to repeat his senior year, and what kind of fair is that?_

She pauses. She looks out at them like they disgust her. Like repulsion.

_But what kind of fair is it that for three years we, as a community, let a child get beaten and starved, and then, when she does not need it, we are interested in her in the worst kind of way? _You cannot swallow. You cannot even blink. You are frozen, listening to her words. The way they rise and fall with her emotion. The way she is almost crying.

_Joseph Grant sat with his parents and watched the same newscast that we all saw. He watched a hologram version of his fellow student be stripped, assaulted, pinned to the ground with scalpels and almost raped. And then he has the unmitigated gall to walk up to her, in a place where she is supposed to feel __safe__, and threaten to tie. Her. Up._

_For a blow job. _

The silence is absolute and utterly impregnable. From what you can see of the audience, no one is even moving.

_You're looking at me like that's not what happened. _Ms. Grow's voice is dripping condescension. 

_You're all looking at me like you __didn't__ watch the report again at eleven just to get your facts straight. Just to make sure._

She pauses. You watch her look down at the podium.

Gather herself.

Look up.

_Haven't you ever done anything. Hasn't anything ever happened to you that you did not want ANYONE to know about? _

Ms. Grow takes one deep breath. You feel Riley breathe in beside you as well, but you don't look around.

_When I was twenty three, I had an abortion. _

Your mouth falls open. Ms. Grows eyes shine with tears, but her face is furious. _I didn't want anyone to know. It was my deepest secret. And…And now you all know, and that is not even a fraction of the people who know what happened to Jane. Who know the intimate details her darkest hours. _

She waits, daring anyone to say anything. To challenge her. But even the French teacher, wide eyed in the corner of the screen does not move to pull her away. 

_Did we call you hear to answer your question? Sure. But we also called you in to tell you, in no uncertain terms, the consequences for taunting her. For teasing her. For asking her inappropriate questions and for making inappropriate gestures. _

Her face goes dark.

_You're out. You're gone. No warning. No nothing. _

_This is a human female person. And I-I should have… _She stops.

Your heart aches.

She has been avoiding you.

_We__. Should have done more. _She looks up at them. They look back at her, unsure. She nods once.

_The least we can do is start now. _

…

The hand that grips your shoulder as you wipe at your eyes is familiar and you look around, wondering how long Maura has been standing there. She smiles sadly, and you lean into her.

_I didn't know if I should show you._ Her voice is tentative.

You shake your head, glad that it was Alissa although you can't put your finger on why. But Maura seems to understand.

Barry grins at you. _Some dick freshman recorded it too. uploaded it to the internet, but Riley saw it and went around to put the beat down on him. _Frost laughs at your wide eyes. _It was down within the hour. And that kid needs a new phone AND a new face._

Maura nods, next to you, slides her hand into yours, looking up, asking.

You nod, squeezing her fingers.

Things are changing, but the way you feel about her stays the same, like your anchor.

She goes to therapy each week now, just like you. Sometimes her parents go with her. Sometimes she goes alone. You've told her you'll go too. If she needs you. When you're ready.

She'd kissed you like it was the first time her lips had ever been on yours, and the stars you saw were outlined in heat rings…like lava.

In exchange, Richard tells you that the Prosecution has called again, a woman, by the name of Alexandra Cabot, and in a voice that you know Maura can hear from the kitchen…

You tell him to set up a meeting.

_Ready? _Barry jerks you back into the present.

Today is not for therapy or testimonies. Today you are going to see a movie with your girlfriend, your best friend and his almost girl.

Today is just…a day.

You love the ordinariness of it.

You smile the entire way to the theatre.

_…_

You manage to corner Ms. Grow, finally. Charlie takes Maura to her appointment, and you circle back through the school to her classroom, slipping in when you see her grading and shutting the door quickly.

She looks terrified. _Jane._ She looks like she might get sick. _I'm…I'm super busy._ Her hands are shaking.

You step forward. You hadn't gotten farther in your plan than to find her. _Maura's at an appointment. I thought I could read with-_

But Ms. Grow is shaking her head, looking down. _I-I'm on my way out, actually. I…_ She looks around the room as if the end of her sentence is hidden somewhere in it.

You frown, and you feel something like smoke settle in your chest. Like dusk on a rainy night.

You are insulted. and a little angry. _You keep blowing me off._

She looks at you. The same wide grey eyes that used to smile as they took you in are hollow and haunted. You take a step closer.

She puts out her hand, _Jane._

You shake your head, confused. _Why are you avoiding me? What did I do?_

Her hand goes to her throat. _Nothing! God…no. Nothing. You…I…I…just…_but she breaks off again, and even though you wait, she doesn't continue.

You look at your shoes. _I'm disgusting to you. _You almost whisper, so you don't think she hears you, but when you look up, she has taken a step towards you. Finger out. At your heart.

_Don't you dare say that again. Do you hear me?_ She looks furious and petrified and you wonder briefly at the human face's ability to juxtapose such emotions so seamlessly that you can read each one. Like a book. _Don't y you ever say that. Ever. You are __not__ disgusting. _

You hold out your hands. _Then what? What did I do?_ You have to know.

_I…it…IT HURTS TO LOOK AT YOU._ She yells and you take a step back, surprised. _It hurts to think of how completely I failed you. Every time I see you struggle with your pencil at your desk, or shy away from a group of kids in the hall…or let Maura zip your jacket…I just. I think of all the times I almost asked you what was happening. All the times I almost…_

You look at her. Really look. _I would have lied to you._ The truth. Plain and simple.

She shrugs. _I could have called CPS. _

You mirror her movement. Shoulders up. Shoulders down. _He would have killed me. If they'd shown up._

She shakes her head, but doesn't answer, and you stand in silence for a long time.

_I heard what you said. At the assembly. _She jerks her head around to look at you.

You tug one of your fingers. You want her to understand. _You aren't to blame for what he did. I didn't tell anyone. If anything…you were the only place I felt safe. _She makes as sound like she's forcefully holding tears at bay. You look down at the floor. _I just… _No messing up. You want to say this right.

_I don't have to…There's no need for it…but…If you need me to forgive you…_You look up at her.

_If you need me to forgive you…I already have. _

And the way she almost runs forward to hug you, and laughs and cries and then starts laughing again, her words incoherent and garbled in the onset of her tears…

You know that it might not be back to normal just yet.

But at least you've said it right.

…

Richard is in his study when you knock on the side of the door. He looks up, and you watch his face slip from childlike surprise and happiness to one of carefully managed optimism.

You hide a smile.

_Jane. To what do I owe the pleasure? Up for some chess?_

You shake your head, feeling your throat close up a little. It is stupid and irritating that you still have this reaction to him. You trust Korsak to throw you around like a rag doll, but you can barely be in the same room as this man.

You look at the floor.

_Take your time._ He sounds gentle.

You take the crumpled paper out of your pocket and hold it out to him. _Can you help me make this? It's…um…it's for Maura. I want to make her something for being so brave and for always being there for me…but some of the things I'm not sure how to do…and I thought…_that you could help me, dad. But your voice stops and refuses to complete the sentence.

Richard has taken the paper, is looking down at it with a furrowed brow.

_Some of the measurements are off, maybe. It's stupid maybe. _Already you are doubting. _I could think of something else. I still have most of the blue card money left and-_

But he stands up, grinning from ear to ear. He looks more excited than you have seen him. Ever.

_This is…spectacular. Did you design this?_

You study one of your shoelaces. You nod. He says your name and you look up. He is beaming.

_This is..is fantastic. Of course I will help you make this. _He turns and rummages around in his desk, finally coming up with a set of keys.

_What are those for?_ You take a step back.

His smile falters, but does not disappear. _I thought we could get started today. Your mother and I are leaving for the weekend at the end of the month, but I think we can have it done by then. _He pauses and you think he is going to fix his mistake, but he doesn't seem to realize that he's made one. _Can you go now, Jane? Or do you have other plans?_

You grin at him. _No. let's go now. _

.

You've never been in a Home Depot before, and you are immediately overwhelmed by the size. As you step into the cavernous building, you reach for him automatically, slipping your hand into his.

He looks at you sharply, and you wonder if it's weird. Are you too old?

But then he gives you a squeeze. _It's a big place._ Under his breath, like you're sharing a secret, _They probably hide the portal to Narnia somewhere behind the lumber._

Your laugh is sudden and surprised, and he looks at you. Chuckling too.

_Don't worry. I won't let you get lost. _

It's not til you're looking at lightbulbs that you realize he might be talking about other things besides the store.

.

You want the cherry wood.

He's a couple yards away from you looking at the oak, but when you think of Maura, you think of this smooth dark reddish wood.

_This one._ You call and he looks up at you, skeptical.

_You sure? This one is so smooth, and pale and… _

But you shake your head, already sold.

_No, Dad. Look. This one is so much more like her. _You look up at him and he is staring at you. You look back, confused. He's looking at you like he's waiting for something. Like…

Oh…shit.

You replay the words in your head, and immediately you understand. He's waiting for you to correct your mistake. You open your mouth to do just that…and then you realize.

There wasn't one.

You look up at him again. _Cherry,_ You say firmly, and he looks confused and then like he might cry. And then he laughs.

_You are stubborn. _He reaches out for the wood, shaking his head, still chuckling. _Alright, Jane. Cherry it is then._

Your heart hurts in an undeniably fantastic sort of way.

…

_Would things be different if I were a boy?_

The car ride has been silent until now, and you didn't even mean to say this sentence. You'd been enjoying the companionable silence and letting her thoughts run free.

Your father frowns at the road. _Yes._ After a moment's contemplation. _I suppose lots of things would be different if you were a boy, Jane._

You don't know if he's being deliberately dense, or giving you the space to try again.

Either way. _I mean…would you still have taken me in? Would you still let me…be with Maura?_

He frowns at the road and you wait. All thumbtacks and barbed wire. _Ah._ He smiles a bit. _You heard your mother talking to Maura about sex_.

The word alone makes you blush, but he doesn't seem fazed. _Hmm. Well I suppose, yes. If you were a boy…If my daughter loved you as such…yes. The circumstances would be different._

You look down at your hands. You knew it.

_But…_You look up. _If you're asking if we would love you any less. If we would keep you from her, when it is so obvious how you feel. If we would not take you in because of it. _He shakes his head. _The answer is a resounding no. _

He glances at you quickly, smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. _When I met your mother. I used to climb the trellis to her window and sneak into her bed. _

You look at him, wide eyed. He laughs.

_Her mother was terrified that we would cause a scandal. Constance Stamford…unwed…pregnant. They would have died. _

Your face feels hot. There's a weird squirm in your stomach. Like embarrassment.

_But most nights. I just wanted to hear her breathing._ You look up at him sharply, and your first, foolish thought is that he's been reading your journal. But there is such a wistful, dreaming look on his face that you realize he's reliving the love.

_Now, _He seems to shake himself out of it, _The penetration and the arousal did not mean noth-_

But this is too much. You would hurl yourself from the car if you were going under forty miles an hour.

_EW. DAD. You are just like Maura! Gross… NO. Don't say those words… _You are protesting and shaking your head back and forth so hard that your neck cracks.

And he laughs, taking the exit for your house. _Ah_ his sigh is nostalgic. _Youth. _ _Forever dear. Forever Kind. _

You grin. _Homer,_ you say immediately. And when he looks surprised, you grin wider. _Maura said it, one time._

He reaches over and taps your head. _That brain_!

You smile and he leaves his hand on your shoulder for the rest of the ride.

You wouldn't want it any other way.

* * *

_**I am trying to fluff you guys up before the trial...but this story is bittersweet by nature. a purely fluffy chapter would seem contrived and out of place...right?  
As always I remain humbled and speechless at your support.  
I love you all dearly.  
Unconditionally. **_

_**tc**_


	29. Chapter 29

Spring oversleeps. As the days slip by into March, the weather stays cold and windy, and although the sun shines brightly most days, the temperature does not make it out of the thirties.

Jane pays for your hot chocolate at the counter of the deli and then follows you into your side of the booth. You smile and sigh and put your head on her shoulder. It is the first day that you are alone together in a long, long time, and you feel her relax against you, tracing lazy circles on the shoulder closest to her. She's been tense lately. The trial begins at the end of March and you can tell by the way she worries the ends of her gloves that she is scared, and you feel sick with worry for her.

But right now, she is relaxed and half smiling, and you let yourself revel in the moment, and you do not talk.

You do not talk about the trial.

You do not talk about her scheduled meeting this weekend with the lawyer.

You do not ask her what she's going to say or if she's scared or if she needs anything from you, can she just…tell you what she _needs_?

No.

You sit next to her, close to her, and you sip your hot chocolate and listen to her heartbeat.

_I missed you._ It's a stupid thing to say. It falls out. You see her every day. _This, I mean I missed-_

But she chuckles,_ I know what you mean. I missed you too. _ Even after all this time with you, her voice stays deep and rasping. The consistency of the tone is comforting. It wraps around you like a hug.

Oh, wait, no. That's her actual arm encircling you like that. Pulling you closer. You smile wider, feeling warmth spread through you like a heat lamp.

_Ms. Grow says you made the Senior Debate Squad._ She speaks out of the blue and you turn to look at her. She's grinning at you. _Why didn't you tell me?!_

You squirm a little. In truth, you hadn't told her because you aren't sure if you're going to do it. The team practices every day after school and you…do not want to be away from her. _I…hadn't made up my mind yet. _

She frowns a little, looking at you. Trying to read what you aren't telling her. She pulls you closer, and when she presses her lips to yours she tastes like her raspberry latte.

Your heart skips.

A woman a booth over makes a disgruntled noise, and Jane turns to look at her, dark eyes flashing. You put your hand in hers and you squeeze and when she looks back at you, you kiss her again. Sweet and lingering.

You feel her shiver. _Thanks for the hot chocolate. _

She grins and pulls you closer, kissing your hair, and this is the exact reason you don't want to do the debate team. The feeling of her arm around you and her chin on your head.

_The trial won't go on forever, Maur_. Her voice is soft. Tentative.

_We deserve to do the things that make us happy. _

You push closer to her. How do you make her understand that this, right here.

It's all you need in the world.

…

Saturday. The doorbell rings and you get there first, pulling the door open District Attorney Alexandra Cabot.

She has blonde hair and eyes like the ocean off the coast of the Maldives. Blue and blue and blue until it hurts. She is tall, but petite, and although you know she is on your side, you are instantly intimidated by her. She shakes your mother's hand and then turns to you, hand out.

_You're Maura._

You can only nod. You're not even sure if you should speak in her presence.

_I'm sorry, Ms. Cabot, Jane is out with my husband at the moment. _Constance is gesturing that she should come in and sit down, and you follow after them into the sitting room.

_Alex, _The woman says briskly, _Please. And that's alright. I would like to speak to you without her, if possible. _

Your mother glances at you, and you hesitate. Nothing would be harder than leaving the room now, but if your mother tells you to go…you will.

_You can stay, Maura. If it's alright with your mother. _

You look at your mother and she nods and you settle on the couch while the two adults each take an armchair.

For a moment, nobody speaks.

Nervousness is a fish that you can't catch. It wriggles away from you, slippery and uncomfortable.

You cannot calm yourself.

Alexandra sets her briefcase down and pops it open. _ I came to speak to you about the trial, obviously._ She does not smile. _ About what we're going to be looking at in terms of Angela's defense. _She pauses until both you and your mother nod. _In my opinion their defense is weak, especially when we put it up against what's been done to Jane, but…it might pull at some heartstrings. _She opens up a file, thick like a book, and you feel your chest get tight.

You want to know everything that is in there.

You wish you'd never seen t.

She reads. _Single mother, out of work, three children and no family. The defense has tracked down the social worker who was on the case, and she is indeed a pretty terrible civil servant. Was put in jail for accepting bribes from State Facilities. She would take children away from their parents with little or no cause and no follow up, and put them in state run group homes for a cut of the money. _

Alex says this like it is not one of the worst things you've ever heard in your life. Like this is not a completely new concept that you have to figure out how to swallow.

_She threatened Angela with the same…multiple times. _

Your mother makes a movement with her shoulders at the mention of Angela. Alexandra does not miss it. _You do not approve of Angela. _Not a question.

_I do not understand that woman._ Your mother's voice glacial.

Alex fixes her own icy eyes on your mother. _You cannot sympathize with her?_

She stiffens, and you watch anger flare in her face at once. _No. I cannot. _

Alex raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow. She seems to be rethinking something. _That is not possible. _Her voice is not condescending or harsh, but merely factual. _You are a mother. Of course you can. _

Constance is not used to this type of challenge. She lowers her chin. _I cannot. _

There is a pause while the women size each other up. You feel your skin prickle. Alex stares at Constance and it is impossible to tell what is going on in her head. Her face is magnificently impassive. At last she speaks, and when she does, her tone is lightly sardonic. _You have no money. Your husband does not exist. Your infant son is starving. What do you do?_ She stares at your mother.

_I ask for help_

Alexandra snorts, dismissive. _Help? The only help you are going to receive is uniformed men coming and ripping that baby out of your arms, splitting your children up and putting them in foster homes where six times out of ten. Yes, six times out of ten that's sixty… percent…of the time… they don't get the nutrition they need. _She leans forward and your mother leans back, a submissive gesture that you've never seen on her. Alexandra does not miss it. Her voice drops low. It threatens. _Your daughter will get beaten in the shower of a group home. Statistics say it's more likely that she'll go there than to a residential home that cares about her wellbeing. She is 12 after all. Too old to learn to call someone else Mommy._

Constance's eyes flicker across you, and you can tell she's picturing it. That it's hurting her. You want to get up and go to her. Reassure her as she reassured you just yesterday, but you find you can't move.

_I would… _

But Alex cuts her off. _The baby, he's young, CPS is going to put him up for adoption faster than you can blink. Your middle boy? He's under five, so he's desirable too. The chances that you'll see those boys again? They start at 70% There's a 70% chance you'll all be a complete family again, but it drops in half after the first six months. Are you going to get it together in the first six months? You have nothing. Of course you're not. _She sneers.

Constance gapes. _I would…ask my family- _

And the District Attorney makes a noise that is like gravel in her throat. She waves a hand and your mother falls silent. _You. Don't. have one. You don't have a family. You have three children and a studio apartment and sixteen dollars in your bank account, which means you can't even use an ATM. What do you do?_ She does not blink and you think those ice blue eyes must be what Medusa's eyes were like. You wait for your mother to turn to stone.

_I…would not have…_

_Sold your eldest daughter? _Alex looks briefly down at the folder in her hands. _But it wasn't selling. Not really. You worked with this man at the hospital. He was kind and knowledgeable and friendly, not some stranger off the street. He had money, and he was interested in your child. _She rolls her shoulders once and you are reminded of Jane. _And not interested in the way the men on the corner are interested, because you've seen them too, and you don't know how you're going to protect her from them… But interested in a fatherly way…so you think._

Your mother is shaking her head, but Alexandra continues. Relentless. You want to ask what is the point. Why is she doing this?

You want to jump up and tell her to stop bullying your mother.

You can only sit, spellbound as she continues.

_You leave her there overnight…for two days…for a week and a half, and when she comes back she has a new sweatshirt. New shoes. She's well fed. When he offers you this deal, how to you pass it up? How do you pass up the opportunity to keep your family as whole as you can? _

When your mother speaks again, her voice is hoarse, like she's straining. _She's my daughter. _

Alexandra shrugs. _Then let the baby starve to death._

You gasp at how callous she sounds, and her ocean eyes flick to you as she speaks again. _Jane was twelve. She understood hunger, and she knew what was causing it. _

But your mother will not back down so easily. _That woman stayed away for three and a half years, people were __telling__ her. _

_So? _The lawyer really does look like she could care less.

Anger kisses the back of your throat.

_Kids get bruises. Kids fall down. Kids need to change school districts and go to the hospital. They're kids. Things happen. _

_Not like this. I would have known. _

You see Alexandra's eyes change. Focus in. _You would have known?_

You see the trap before your mother does, but you can't do anything about it.

_Yes. I would have known and I would have come back. _

Gotcha. _So…you __might__ have sold her in the first place. _

Your mother blinks. _No…I…what?_

But Alex looks triumphant. _You just said you would have come back…that means you understand how Angela Rizzoli felt. You accept that she had no choice but to strike a deal with Charles Hoyt. _

Your mother looks furious. _I wouldn't have done it. _

_But you understand it. _

Silence, while she tries to find a way around it. But then. _I…don't know._

_You see how she could be coerced into feeling like there was no other way out?_

Your mother looks a little stunned. _I…yes. _

The lawyer nods. _So why should she be punished? All this woman wants is to put her family back together. All she wants is a chance to raise her boys. Is that too much to give her?_

You love your mother. She reflects your anger immediately. She leans forward now. _Yes. _

_Why? She did nothing wrong._

That is the last straw. 

_SHE DID EVERYTHING WRONG. FROM THE MOMENT SHE HEARD HER DAUGHTER WAS IN PAIN SHE DID EVERYTHING WRONG. IT TOOK ME YEARS TO HEAR MY CHILD. TO HEAR THAT SHE WAS IN PAIN AND THAT SHE NEEDED ME, BUT THE MOMENT I UNDERSTOOD THAT. THE MOMENT I SAW…I CAME HOME. _

Your mother is standing and you are standing too, moving to her and wrapping your arms around her. You can feel her heart racing against your hear and you squeeze, wanting her to know that you are there. You are there and you love her.

You love her.

You are there.

She holds you tight with one arm, her other hand goes to her throat, and some people might call her aloof or cold or distant, but when you look up into her face, you know that all of that is protection. She might have been scared of how she felt for you. She might have been terrified of the ferocity of her love.

But she is not anymore.

You hold tighter, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she takes a breath. _I came home. I was frightened that nothing could be fixed or saved. But I did it anyway. And I've been trying to make it right ever since. And that woman couldn't give a damn about Jane. Any mother on the jury would be an idiot and a fool to feel sorry for her. _

_Why? _Alex is leaning forward now too, and you wonder how eyes so blue can look so much like flames.

_Because…you know your child. No matter how long you've been away._

Alex nods. _And?_

You look back up at your mother and she looks down at you. _You know her voice. And when she needs you. You just come home. _

And Alex stands up too. She claps twice. _Perfect. _

You both turn to look at her, confused. _ What? _

_That was perfect._ She's turning away from you, reaching for her briefcase._ Couled you replicate that emotion on the stand?_

Your mother looks like she would be angry if she could figure out what has just happened. _On the…you want me to testify? _

A vigorous nod from the blonde head. _Yes. The defense is not stupid. They are going to try and stack that jury with parents. With hard working, lower class men and women whose biggest fear is that Child Services, or Debt Collectors, or God forbid, the Police themselves, are going to knock down their doors. They __want__to like Angela, and they want to hate you. _

The hand around your shoulders tightens a little. _Hate me…why?_

_You're privileged and wealthy. They think you could not possibly sympathize with a woman who literally has…nothing. We need to show them that you do. You do understand her desperate need to protect what's hers…but that what Angela did was not protection. It was greed. _

You look up at Alexandra Cabot, and she offers you half of a smile that you don't return. She has yet to meet Jane face to face, and if that meeting is going to go anything like this, you don't want your girlfriend anywhere near her.

Your emotions write clearly all over your face. Alex steps forward, still looking at you. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. _You can't bully Jane like that. _You lower your chin, like your mother. _You'll hurt her._ _You're supposed to be on her side._

You have caught Alexandra Cabot off guard. You recognize it in the split second before she fixes her face, cocking her head at you. Intrigued.

_I __am__ on her side. More than you know. _She looks you over again. _I am not going to go after your girlfriend like that. _Her voice has dropped back to normal, and you are surprised that she has called Jane your girlfriend. _I would not do to Jane what I did to your mother just now._

You narrow your eyes. You don't know that you trust her. But she looks amused and a little impressed by you, and her face gets a bit softer. She really is quite pretty, when she's not being so terrifying.

_It's good that she's got someone like you. _She searches your face for a moment before nodding once. Like she's seen all she needs to.

She holds out her hand to your mother and they shake.

_I'll be in touch. _

…

The dream nearly breaks you apart.

You sit up in bed gasping for air, sobbing even though there is no force in your lungs. You're calling her name, but you know that she won't come because she is dead.

Your chest is concave.

_Honey. _She's there immediately, and you pull her close, trying to breath.

Your head is on her chest. You kiss all the skin you can find. _Honey. Honey honey. _Her voice is right by your ear, sweet and slippery and cool like water. She slides her hands under your shirt and her palms on your back pulls you back.

_ ._ Every word you want to speak, everything you want to say comes out her name.

I dreamt you were dead. _Jane._

I cannot live without you. _Jane. _

I am so scared that I cannot be what you'll need from me. _oh…janejane. _

She doesn't let you go. She wraps herself around you and presses her lips to the skin behind your ear. She starts to talk to you, and at first, through the residual terror and the way your chest still rises and falls, you can't make out what she's saying.

_Jump, if you want to, 'cause I'll catch you.. I'll catch you before you fall._

You recognize it. It's familiar, but you can't place it yet. You hold onto her. She holds you back. Tight.

_Go as far inside as you need to, I'll hold your ankles. Make sure you get back out._

Her hands don't move on your back. They stay firm and grounding. And you love her. She understands what you need in this moment. Pressure. Reassurance.

_I'm not saying this because I need a place to stay. That's the last thing I need. I told you, I'm a walking man, but I been heading in this direction for years_.

Beloved. You're reading it in English. And as she continues speaking, you recognize the passage you covered that day.

She's memorized it.

You open your eyes and look up at her. She's looking back at you, waiting.

You can't say anything. You can only marvel at her brain. At how everything went wrong and right to lead up to this moment. In bed. With her.

She takes your hand and she puts it on her heart. You feel it. Beating away under your hand.

Beating right.

_But when I got here and sat out there on the porch, waiting for you, well, I knew it wasn't the place I was heading toward…it was you. _

You have tears in your eyes. You know the last line of the passage. You mouth it along with her, your eyes falling shut again.

_We can make a life._ She presses her lips to yours. Gentle. Incendiary.

_A life, Maura. _

You press against her, nodding. You close your eyes.

You do not dream again. 


	30. Chapter 30

Alexandra Cabot has a book on you. It's a file, really. And she pulls it out of her briefcase and you stare at it. She doesn't miss this.

Her eyes are blue and sharp like eagle eyes, and you think nothing you do will go unnoticed.

This thought makes you roll your shoulders.  
And Alexandra Cabot takes that in as well.

_If you'd like. I can make you a copy so that everything I know about you...you know that I know about you. _

You shake your head. _I don't care. _

_I think you do._ Her voice does not contradict you the way her words do and it takes you a moment to realize that she's called you out on your lie. _I think you do care. And it's alright to admit that. _

You're meeting at the diner where you had your tenth birthday. Where you discovered what it meant to do kid stuff.

Alex had said, _pick anywhere, _and this had come without thought.

She pays for your milkshake and gestures that the people sitting two booths down from you are to go on her tab as well.

You look up at Charlie and Maura, now. Maura pretending to study and Charlie pretending to read. Really they are listening for you. One word, and Charlie would take you home. Maura would wrap you up in a blanket, and tell you about the argument she's trying to make in Debate.

You smile a little. Thinking about it.

_You like that girl._ Alex misses nothing.

Her comment pulls you out of your reverie. _Maura. You like her. _

This is an understatement. A huge one. You cannot help but bare your teeth a little. _I love her._

If this surprises the DA, she doesn't say. _What do you love about her?_

Oh.

That question.

For a moment you are everywhere. Each word that you think of is a description, even if it is not. How do you tell Alexandra Cabot that the milkshake in your hands is how much you love Maura Isles. That each night putting your head down on the pillow is how much you love her, and waiting for thirty minutes outside the Debate Team classroom at the end of each day, your heart going and going as the minutes of the clock count down and all the other moments you were without her feel like fire and then she's there.

The same hug every day. the same green eyes finding yours. The same delight and bashful surprise to find you waiting.

That's how you love Maura Isles. She is all of it.

_She lets me love her._ not nearly as simple as that. You roll your shoulders, dissatisfied. it will have to do.

_How wonderful. _Alex's face goes...what. You stare, trying to work it out. She smiles at you. _How wonderful...and...do you let her love you?_

You hadn't been expecting that.

She closes the file on the table. Looks at you for a long time. _Jane. I'm about to try your mother. _

You really do growl now. Alex raises an eyebrow, but does not ask you about it. _I'm about to put your mother on trial for leaving you in the care of a pedophile. _

You grit your teeth.

It doesn't hurt. Those are just words.

_I'm about to tell everyone that your mother did not care about you. I'm about to tell them that she knew you were being abused on a daily basis. That she had knowledge of your hospital visits and your bruises. _

Alex pauses. You don't look at her. her voice gets a little gentler, as if to kiss the words before they come out. So they don't hurt as much.

_She knew. She left you there. _

You look up, to where Maura is sitting, and she glances up from her book and double takes. She moves to stand up. Her mouth over your name.

Charlie looks around. his eyes on Alexandra. working on anger.

You fix your expression quickly. make it easy and okay.

you shake your head.

for a moment she looks unconvinced, but you manage a smile, and flicking her eyes briefly to Alex, she settles back in her seat.

It happens in under twenty seconds. Alex watches it all.

Then she leans forward, dipping her head until you meet her eyes.

_Your mother left you. _like nothing happened.

You shake your head. You don't care. You are nowhere.

You don't-

_You are worrying about that girl. _

You snap your head up to look at her. _What?_

_You're worrying about her. about how you are going to protect her. _Alex looks at you like this is plain as day. _You're worrying about how to protect her from the press. you're worried about what's going to happen to her at school. You're worried about how she's sleeping._ _I can see it in your face. _

You wonder if everyone with blue eyes has a direct line to your brain.

_Are you letting her worry about you? _The question catches you off guard. You look up at her and she repeats it. _Are you letting her worry about you, Jane?_

.

Two nights ago, you woke up from a dream where your mother, angela, stabbed your girlfriend through the heart with knife. It was long and serrated and red with your blood already.

She'd cut you at the knees, you could not get to her.

She screamed for you, and you failed.

You woke up in your room, soaked with sweat. crying.

But even as you dragged yourself back to consciousness, you were telling yourself

_shut up... shut up... she's sleeping. _

_let her keep sleeping. _

_. _

You look up into those eyes and you know that Alexandra Cabot already knows the answer. _I could ask you a lot of things, to try to get to know you. _

You wonder at the change in direction. She doesn't fill you in.

_It would be a good way to get to know you. To know how you are going to react on the stand. _She opens the file in front of her. Her eyebrows crease. _ I could ask you about the night you wound up in the hospital with a broken ankle and a dislocated shoulder. Bruises up and down you. Was that the night he first tried to rape you, Jane? _You stiffen, but she raises a hand, not wanting an answer. _Or. what did it feel like to hear your mother say she was not coming back. year after year. _

Tears prickle at your eyes. but you lower your chin. you don't look away from her.

She smiles. _But I know how you're going to react. _She nods when you look confused. _You're going answer all of them. truthfully. You're going to be brave and strong no matter what I ask you and no matter what the defense asks you. You are not weak. You are a rock. _

Alexandra Cabot understands you.

You nod, and she leans forward, across the table, close enough that you lean back, wary. Her eyes are hard hard like steel, but soft like understanding and you want to believe that that is possible. You want her to be both hard and gentle because then you can be too.

You would not have to choose.

_You can protect your heart. _Her voice is low. _You should. From the press and from your mother. From the little shits at school who are going to try to take advantage. _

She points across the room at Maura. _But you should not hide yourself from her._

You stare. wide eyed.

Alex stares back. _You do her a disservice. _

Anger is a dog on the end of a leash. Straining and straining and straining to get free. You tug at it, try to pull it back, but it will not obey. You fume.

Alex leans back, like she realizes.

_I'm married. to a woman. _The new change makes your eyebrows shoot up. All you can muster is sarcasm.

_Good. You're a little old for me._ She laughs. full and real and genuine. You have surprised her, caught her off guard. You like that.

She nods. _Yes, well. You are very like her. _she frowns a bit. _She wouldn't much like that I share this with you...but I trust you. _

And you lean forward, because it feels nice to be trusted.

_We love each other. Quite fiercely. And when she was captured, and assaulted, she was very strong, and she came home to me. _You wait, and Alex gathers herself.

_She came home to me. And she protected me. She loved me as fiercely as she had ever loved me before. But she would not let me love her. _

You look down at the table. You're not wearing gloves today, and the scars are faint raised bumps on the backs of your hands. They're going to be with you forever.

_She would not let me love her and I thought...I thought I would die. _

You look up. You had not pegged this woman for emotional. for a family. but here she is. Sharing, Asking you to understand.

She points across the room again. At your beautiful golden girl. _She wants to love you. to help you through this. _Alex's voice is quiet. _She wants you to need her. Protect her, yes, but need her more. _

Alex looks back at you. _And you are going to need her in this trial, Jane. If you love her as much as you say. No one can do something like this alone. _

Like she knows you're speaking about her, Maura looks up.

She looks first at Alex and then you. And the smile she gives you is like the first day of summer. Warm and open.

Like it's never seen a snowflake in it's life.

_Let her love you._

_._

When you're getting into the car at the end of the meeting, a question occurs to you, and you tell Charlie to wait and you tell Maura you'll be right back, and you run after Alexandra Cabot, catching up to her as she raises her hand for a cab.

_Your wife. _She looks at you, eyebrows up, waiting. _What does she do? Do I really remind you of her? Were you there for her? when she let you love her? _That's more than you meant to ask, but you need the answers to all of those questions.

Alex tilts her head, looking as though she is trying to decide what to say.

You wait, all nerves. Maybe your questions are too personal.

_You remind me of her very much, Jane, and when she let me love her again...be there for her...we both got much, much stronger. _Something fierce crosses Alex's face. You recognize it. From the mirror. _I would never let her down. _She smiles at you and turns back to the road.

_Wait. _One more. _What does she do? your wife. _

Alex smiles, and it's rueful, though you won't think of that word until much later.

_She's a detective. _

...

You lead her onto the back porch.

When she sees it her eyes go wide and surprised and excited, and you have to admit to yourself that it is a pretty impressive structure.

Square like a miniature house. Almost domed on top. There's a flap that you can crawl into.

It's like a hideaway.

_When did you...how...how did you?_ She has trouble finding the right words. But that's okay.

_Your dad helped. _You grin. _A little. _

She squeezes your hand. You don't wince. _It...It's...what is it?_

And you laugh, because it could be a huge, great, wooden ball of nothing, and she would still praise it like you brought the moon down just for her.

_get in._

Her eyes get wider. _hmm?_

You gesture to the opening. _Get in_.

She drops to her knees without protest. without telling you that her dress is new or that it will wrinkle. without worrying about ruining her tights. She drops to her knees and disappears.

And she trusts what you made won't hurt her.

You love her.

You flip the switch on the side and you follow her in.

.

There's just enough room for the two of you. You sit cross-legged, facing her. She's on her knees, and in the faint light of the thousands of stars you can see that she's looking up.

From the way her breath rises and falls, you can hear that she's crying.

_There's billions of stars in the galaxy. _Your voice is just above a whisper. You've had this memorized since the first nail. _but you could only ever see 2500 with the naked eye. _

She doesn't look at you. She keeps looking up. Her eyes are glittery and you are in love.

_the first time i saw you, i thought of stars. I thought of how you were one, and how i wanted to be one. how i wanted...you to see me as one. _

She reaches out blindly, and you give her your hand.

She pulls it to her mouth and she's kissing and kissing. and crying. she does not have words yet.

that's okay. you have more.

_it doesn't move. _You're talking about the stars over her head. punched into the rough black blue fabric and suspended over lowlight blue bulbs above her head.

You're talking about the tiny night sky you've constructed on her back porch.

You're talking about how you love her.

_it doesn't move and i could have made it move... but i don't want it to. _You're talking about the stars and about how much you love her.

And now she does look at you...waiting. You breathe.

_When i met you, i first thought of stars...and how you were one, and how I wanted to be one...to be with you. but i was...i was always moving. I was...in orbit..._

_And maybe that's good for planets. but it never felt good for me. It hurt. _

_I wanted to land. I wanted someone to ground me. _

You breathe and she doesn't. She grips your hand and she waits. eyes on you in the almost darkness. eyes only for you.

_And when I met you, I thought of stars and how you were one and how i wanted to land...with you. _

She's not breathing.

When she leans forward and puts her lips on yours you stop breathing too. She's crying or your crying. It doesn't matter. both your faces are wet.

And she's there. under the stars. with .

She's there.

_I need you. _The words are out before you can stop them, and haven't you been trying to say them all day? Does it matter that they're coming now?

_I need you. _

She's nodding against you. And her hands slip around you, holding against your back. She nods and nods. _Tell me what I can do. Tell me how I help. _

You put your head in the crook of her neck, and you're glad that it's dark. You're glad she can't see you struggle with yourself.

But maybe she doesn't need to see. Maybe she can feel it, because her hands tighten around you and she says it's okay.

_It's okay. You can hurt. This can hurt you. I won't let you go. _

And isn't that everything you wanted to hear and nothing you thought you could ask for all rolled into one?

Isn't that why you love her, why you will protect her.

why you will let yourself need her.

_Don't go. _You have to try. _No matter what you hear. Please don't go. _

And she climbs into your lap, and she wraps her arms tighter around you. And you kiss the curve of her neck where it turns into her shoulder. and she doesn't have to say never.

You know.

She looks up. At the fabric sky that you punched holes in, night after night.

Painstaking and beautiful. until your hands ached. but you kept going.

_You made me 2500 stars? _She sounds awed.

But you shake your head. _No. _

She looks down at you. Following your finger to where you're pointing. To the corner of the midnight sky.

To where they sit, side by side. A little bigger, a little brighter, a little better.

Together.

_twenty five hundred and two. _


	31. Chapter 31

_**serious trigger warning. **_

_**serious serious. **_

_**like serious. **_

_**this is a trigger warning.  
i'm serious. **_

* * *

_**...**_

the front steps of the courthouse is mobbed with reporters.

you're not sure how jane is walking. you're not sure how she is moving at all, and when you look at her you can't tell if she sees anything.

you hold tight to her hand, your free arm around her waist.

you press against her. and you put your head on her shoulder. her hand doesn't tighten in yours.

you had only been hoping. you hadn't really expected it.

you press your lips to her jaw. _i'm here. i'm still here and i love you so much. _

her eyes flicker a little.

you squeeze her hand.

on the way towards the front steps, you meet charlie and he tells you that the front steps are mobbed with reporters. he says they all have reports of what happened. they are hungry.

your father swears, and jane flinches in your arms.

your mother bites her lip. _call us a cab._ eyes on jane. speaking to charlie. _then sit in your car like you're waiting for us. give us…twenty minutes for a head start before you drive home. _

he nods and looks at jane too.

jane looks nowhere.

she doesn't protest when you turn her around and lead her in the direction that you've come.

...

* * *

**So you admit to taking money in exchange for your daughter. **

_That's not how he framed it. That's not what he said. _

**I'm sorry…by all means, tell us what phrasing could possibly convince you that the deal you were striking with this man was ethical, not to mention legal. **

_I…um…he said that he would help us stay on our feet. Jane could help him around the house…do tasks for him…laundry, grocery shopping…He said he was about to hire a maid anyway and this would be just the same. _

**The same!? It would be better! What maids do you know who don't quit after the first time you chain them to the wall. **

Careful, Counselor.

**Yes, your honor, my apologies…So…you bonded your child into a sort of, indentured servant-hood…What did you tell her was happening. **

_I…I told her…_

**You didn't, in fact, tell her the truth, did you, Ms. Rizzoli? **

_I told her that…it was until we got on our feet in Philadelphia…Then I would send for her. _

**How much was Charles Hoyt paying you for your child's…should we call them, 'services?' **

_What? How is that…_

**You told you daughter that she would have to stay with Charles Hoyt until you 'got on your feet.' I'm asking you how much you were compensated for leaving Jane behind. **

_…Thirty two hundred dollars. _

**In total? I can see how it was hard to get on your feet in a city like Philadelphia. **

_…No…it was…aomtnth_

**I'm sorry, Ms. Rizzoli, you're going to have to speak up for the court. You're saying it was not thirty two hundred dollars in total?**

_No…it…it was a month. It was thirty two hundred dollars…A month._

* * *

...

a handful of them find you as you head toward the cab that's pulled into the back alley behind the courthouse.

you hear their thrilled voices as you hurry down the side walk after your father.

they call out to you. to jane. yelling anything they can think of.

they sound elated to have found you.

predatory.

you pull jane after you…scared. the cabbie's holding the door open for you, his eyes wide and fascinated, watching the scene unfolding in front of him. your mother's words echo in your head.

_don't say anything in the cab. don't say anything until we get home. alright maura? jane? don't trust anyone outside the family with anything. we'll be home soon, okay?_

the door of the cab is less than three feet away when you hear him. right behind you and loud and excited and too late you register the words and too late you are trying to stop jane from turning.

_Jane! _a reporter. flash camera held in his fist like a machete. _Jane! your mother wants to apologize. Look over here, Janie!_

jane turns. even as you reach for her, and your father lunges forward at the reporter.

jane turns.

and the look on her face as she looks around for her mother.

the look on her face as the camera flashes and she realizes that it was a ploy. that her mother is not there. does not want to apologize. will never want to apologize.

the look. on her face.

it rips everything you know about the world away.

every piece of goodness you'd hoped other people could possess.

any confidence you'd bestowed upon mankind.

it disappears as her face crumbles. as your mother grabs her around the arms and nearly throws her into the car.

as she curls against the far window, away from you.

and starts to cry.

…

* * *

**How often did you send Jane presents?**

_Excuse me?_

**Presents. For her birthday or for the two Christmases you missed. Easter cards, Valentine's Day…anything. How often did you send your daughter a card?**

_I…I didn't._

**You had to keep up appearances that you were poor?**

_I…no! I just…_

**You forgot her birthday? You don't celebrate Easter?**

_No! I just…I thought it would make it harder. _

**Harder on who? **

_…_

**How many cards did you receive from Jane?**

_I…I don't know. _

**Guess. **

_We got cards on Christmas. _

**We? **

_The boys and I. _

**I see. So your child sent three cards on Christmas, one for each of you?**

_Yes. _

**And on the boys birthdays, they got letters from Jane, am I correct?**

_Yes. _

**And your birthday? **

_I got a letter from Jane. _

**And yet, you never felt it necessary to reciprocate. You never felt the need to send you daughter a note, just to tell her you were thinking of her? that you loved her? that you would see her soon?**

_I…I…no. _

**Were you? **

_Was I what? _

**Thinking of her. Were you thinking about Jane, in Philadelphia?**

_…_

**Your Honor-**

Answer the question, Ms. Rizzoli.

_…No._

* * *

…

your mother wraps your father's hand in ice while he yells at Alexandra over the phone. the punch he threw knocked the reporter out cold. he was still on the ground when your car pulled away.

you sit on the steps and listen to him screaming.

_you knew damn well that's what was going to happen, you goaded that woman into saying those things…_he listens. _i'm not saying they weren't true. i'm asking why the hell did jane have to sit there and listen to her say those awful, heartbreaking…_

you look up the stairs. jane is standing at the top landing. listening too. there is still nothing in her eyes but it has gone hard now.

turned inwards.

you reach out to her. she doesn't move.

_not if she doesn't want to. not if she can't. i'm not forcing her to do anything. if she wants to stay in the house for the rest of her life. if she decides she'd rather drop out of school and become a caricature artist, Alex, that's exactly what she's going to do! Did you see her? Did you see her face?_

you hug your knees.

jane doesn't move.

_if she doesn't want to come tomorrow i'm not going to make her and neither are you. no one's going to make her do anything, ever again. _

everything feels small. you hug your knees and you tuck your head down and you are round and the world can't hurt you. there is no part of you that can get caught.

that can tear.

_richard. calm down, honey. she's here and she's safe. that woman can't hurt her anymore. _

there's a noise behind you, like a whimper, and when you turn, you know that your mother is wrong. angela is still hurting her.

right now.

you see her turn like she's slow motion. like the world has sped up and left her behind.

you see her turn and head away, towards her room

and the knife she holds against her side glints once in the light from the hall.

you're yelling for your mother.

you're scrambling up the stairs after her.

screaming. even before your panic can synthesize into words.

...

* * *

**The first time Jane wound up in the hospital she was thirteen years old. Do you remember the injuries she sustained. **

_No. I don't. _

**They were rather significant, Ms. Rizzoli. You're sure you don't remember?**

_I said I don't. _

**Your daughter had a broken wrist and index finger. She required seventeen stitches to close a laceration to her back, and she had an avulsion fracture. Do you remember the phone call you received from the hospital. **

_y…_

**Speak up, Ms. Rizzoli! Please!**

_Yes. I remember it. _

**Did you come home to be with your daughter? She was in a lot of pain. The Doctors told you so. Did you return to care for her?**

_No. _

**And why was that?**

_I…I had work…the boys had school. _

**Work. And school. And yet, when your daughter was hospitalized during your summer vacation to Cape Cod, you did not drive the 72.2 miles up the coast to be with her at that time either. Why is that?**

_I…I didn't think that…_

**In fact, in the three years and seventy three days that you were away from your child, before the Isles found her and saved her life, Jane was hospitalized a total of seventeen times, at eight different hospitals in and around Boston, and you did not visit her once…is that correct Ms. Rizzoli?**

_I…I couldn't…Charles told me I didn't have any rights to her. _

**Why would he say such a thing? You were her mother? How could he make such an outlandish claim? **

…

**Was it because you'd in fact signed custody over to him during Jane's third hospital stay? Was it because he was now Jane's legal guardian and, for all intents and purposes, her parent?**

_Yes. _

**But that's not the only reason you didn't go see her, is it, Ms Rizzoli. **

_What? I…yes it is. _

**No. It is not. I will not remind you about the laws surrounding perjury again. Why else did you not want to see your daughter?**

_I don't know what you're talking about. _

**Where does Francesco believe is sister is, Ms. Rizzoli?**

_…what?_

**Frankie? Your middle child? Your eldest son? What does he think happened to Jane?**

_…You...you have to understand…he was just a little boy. He didn't understand any of what was happening. I wanted to keep him young and-_

**You told him she died, didn't you?**

_No. NO! He asked if she was dead and I…I let him believe it. I couldn't bear him asking after her day after day. I wanted him to move on. I wanted us all to move on. _

**As if Jane were dead? But you were planning to go back to her. How would you explain that to Frankie then?**

_I wanted us all to be happy. I wanted us to be happy and go on vacations and forget that Boston ever happened in with its rats and its one bedroom apartments and nosy social workers. I wanted to be a mother to __my boys!_

**What about what ****_Jane_**** needed? What about what your daughter wanted?**

_Who fucking __CARES__ what Jane wanted? She was born too soon. She was a mistake and I was going down the moment the nurse handed her to me. I didn't want a baby at nineteen. I didn't want this little…this reminder of what a failure I was. When he took her it was like I could breathe again. Like we could laugh again. And then he ruined her and it was like she really was dead. She'd been gone so long…why be sad. Why not keep living. I didn't want her. _

_I didn't want the life she gave me. _

_I wanted to be a mother. To my boys._

* * *

...

your hands are out. you want to move to her but you can't.

you feel your mother freeze behind you. _jane. _it might be you who speaks.

it might be your mother.

you don't know.

the knife is poised, silver against the pale olive throat of the girl that you love and it's all you can see.

the edge there, shiny and glaring against her skin.

your feet feel nailed to the ground.

_jane. _your mother. soft. _sweet girl. it's okay. _

she gestures at your father and he backs away, understanding. jane's eyes dart around the room.

she backs up. her heels thud against the tub of the shower.

_you didn't protect me. _eyes unfocused. _you didn't want to. _

your mother stays where she is. hands out. _i'm so sorry baby. i'm so so sorry. _she shakes her head. _i'm here now. janie, come here, honey. put it down. _

she shakes her head, her hands go up to her head to fist her hair. the knife up like a horrible, serrated horn.

she pulls at her hair, and the action seems to collapse her.

she falls to her knees like rag doll. Pulling and pulling, like she could rip each hair out.

you cry out like it hurts you, but she doesn't stop. You take a step forward and your mother holds you back.

jane is crying. _stop it stop it stop it. don't hurt me. mama please don't let him hurt me. _her eyes snap open and she looks down at her leg.

she looks feral. crazed and terrified by grief. you ache to hold her.

_i can finish it. _she traces the 'f' on the inside of her leg, and you feel your mother tense. _i can finish it. i can…filthy. you're so filthy jane._

you're crying. your mother is crying too, tears rolling down her cheeks.

_jane. honey. you need to look at me. you're not filthy. _

she doesn't look up. the knife in her hand shakes. _filthy girl. no…body… wants… you._ her words are punctuated with sobs. _didn't i tell you?_

she curls on herself and then arches.

like nothing will ease her pain. like no position can offer her shelter.

you want to be her shelter.

_mama… doesn't…want…you. _

your mother sits forward. one more foot and she could take the knife away. she stretches her hands out. _honey, listen to me. _her voice is low and steady, even though she is crying.

she's crying hard.

_i want you. okay? i want you. _

but she's shaking her head. she presses the knife against her thigh. her eyes close. _no one. there's no one to tell. no one cares. she…no one. _

your mother slides an inch closer. her voice is fierce. she reaches out again. a little desperate now.

_tell me, jane. _urgent. _i care._ _tell me, honey. i'm right here. tell me what he did to you. __i care__._

she looks up, and her eyes clear a little.

her fist in her hair loosens a little.

she looks at you.

and there is nothing in the world but a lost little girl on the floor of a bathroom.

you put your hand over your heart.

you don't wipe the tears away as they fall.

your mother slides a little closer and now she can put her hand over jane's around the knife.

_hey, _her voice is soft, soft. _hey, little girl. _she looks at the words on jane's leg and her face goes hard and furious.

you realize it's the first time she's seeing them.

jane moans and it's like ending.

you cannot breathe.

_he hurt me. he made me sleep naked. He touch-touched me. he mark…he marked me. he told-he told me she didn't want me. he told me she-he told me no one…_

your mother puts an arm around her. slowly. then two.

_don't make me touch you. don't make me take my clothes off. don't leave me. please? i'll do anything._

you close your eyes. trying to fight the nausea. your mother has a similar face.

_never. _

she shudders. her hand falls from her hair. _maura. _

you echo your mother immediately. _never. never ever. _choking a little on your tears.

_he made me filthy. she didn't care. she. she didn't care. _

your mother seems to struggle with something. she looks at you and then down and the brunette. _did he…_she hesitates.

you can feel bile in the back of your throat.

you have never needed an answer the way you need one now.

_did he…rape you, sweetheart?_ it hurts her to say it. you can see her force the words out.

she smooths the hair away from jane's face with her free hand, and she looks the way your heart feels.

wrung out and empty. too much giving. too much hurt.

she looks at your mother and when she speaks, she says each word like it's the last one. like there are no more words for anyone to use.

as though now, everyone will have to stay silent forever.

_korsak stopped him. _she looks down at her hands. one tear falls into her palm. _he stopped him before he could fuck me. _she looks around. like she's lost something. her eyes are hollow. _he always used his hand. before…fingers. but not that day. pinned. i knew. _

she looks away. at nothing._ then korsak came._

something inside of you is broken. you pull your knees to your chest and you start to cry. hard.

your stomach hurts and heaves. there is nothing in your head but crying.

you do not try to stop it.

_i wish he had. _an emotion. but not aimed correctly. _i wish he had…then i'd be dead._

_…and my mom would be happy. _

…

* * *

she wakes up in the night.

she dreams fitfully, rolling and pitching and crying endlessly, but she only really wakes once.

your mother is asleep in an armchair by the door, your father is asleep in a sleeping bag on the floor.

jane sleeps pressed against you, breathing hard and deep like the night you brought her home from the street. like she's been waiting all her life. you stay awake and you replay the night in your head.

jane asleep against your mother, hand in your hand.

your father lifting her up and into bed. holding the covers up for you to slide in after her.

the way he'd gone back to the bathroom to sit with your mother while she cried and cried into her hands. past anger and hurt and the words that matched those emotions.

crying because it was not enough.

and it was the only thing left.

but now jane jerks awake, really awake. and when she sits up, you sit up too. like you're attached.

she looks from your father, to your mother, to you. her eyes dark and haunting.

like bereavement.

_hi. _not nearly enough. all you can come up with. _i'm right here. _

she puts her hand on your heart. like testing how real you are.

she looks at you. eyes wide. like you could put her back together.

_Maura._

there is more than one way to be starving.

you press your hand to her heart too. you lean forward so your head is on her forehead, and she doesn't have to say that she's glad you're there, and you don't have to say that you will never leave her, no matter. no matter. what you hear.

you don't have to say anything. but what she is.

you close your eyes.

_Jane._


	32. Chapter 32

you wake up.

you wake up your eyes open and you roll over and you look at her and shes

there beautiful shes

just sleeping with her hand on your stomach

like youre not disgusting like she loves you.

you look at her and she moves close in her sleep.

no.

not sleeping.

you look at her and she opens her eyes.

she says something. she puts her hand on the side of your face. says more things.

you shake your head and press close

her neck.

you close your eyes like youre breathing her in and theres nothing in the world

just you two

just you two.

you shake your head again and she stops her words. she presses her hands against your back.

and she kisses the side of your head and its happy and sad and wake up and be strong.

and you can be strong right?

be strong, jane.

.

you can only do small things.

brush your teeth.

pull your shirt up your shoulders. starchy.

if she knows you dont know her words

she doesnt let on she doesnt go away she doesnt look sad.

she stays with you and makes funny faces while you button.

she says things low, growling and funny when she tucks your shirt.

her hands in your waist band make you hold onto the towel rack tight tight so you don't put your hands on her waist too.

she looks so pretty today she shows you how her dress twirls when she does and shes

infinite and unabashedly proud of it.

she beams.

the only thing in the whole wide world that you want to hold on to.

shes a river of words today and you don't really hear her but you smile when she pauses. well. its almost like smile.

it is not tears.

you spread your arms out like do i look okay.

she doesnt have to nod when you can read answers in her eyes.

.

you sit at the breakfast table everyone is there and they talk quiet like they know you dont

want them to make noise and you dont but you try to act like you dont care.

pick up spoon put down.

pick up. um. spoon.

um...put down.

those are the motions for eating and you do them because, well...just do them, okay?

you look down.

place mat. silverware. napkin. juice.

knife. butter. um...

breath. no. breadth.

better...no...not better...butter. focus. you need to...

knife . better . bread

night better breath.

knife. knife knife better.

...okay. deep breath.

.

nothing food goes into your mouth

nothing words come out.

silent like and empty shes across the table like a sister not next to you like a lover

you are drowning. it is sudden.

you look down at the cereal it is lucky charms your favorite angela never had enough money to get them for you.

**WHO FUCKING CARES WHAT JANE WANTED? **

you are on the floor under the table.

and.

how did that happen. your hands shake. and.

why did that happen. you close your eyes and you separate the voices from above you.

contance high. a stomach ache and sadness

richard deep and angry means helpless.

maura. like always. like sleep tight.

but marisol knows you dont understand them.

she comes she puts her self small next to you and she waits. you hold your knees and she murmurs soft things.

she hands you something round, warm, you want to hold it to your face and not eat it but you put it in your mouth when she gestures and

it is stand up and brush yourself off.

it is dont cry be strong.

you dont cry.

marisol has crooked fingers and she takes your wrist in her hand and she says something.

it is deep her voice from another place

and a language you dont know.

she says it again and you close your eyes and open them like waking up.

you look at her. she smiles and nods like

okay here we go. look at your family. all here for you.

she nods but doesnt say. or maybe she does.

she smooths hair away from your face and kisses your temple where your heart is slowing down and reminding itself: okay. okay. okay.

youre living and you crawl out from under the table because youre living.

you have to be.

you look at marisol and she says four words.

you know them as if they are you.

maybe they are.

_small tiny. lion heart. _

...

big. yellow. bus.

busses.

two.

you run your hand along your head for fever. you are cold to your own touch.

she takes your hand from your head to kiss it.

murmured and low her love you don't need to understand the words to let them build a home in your chest like birds.

a smile half a second and then the car stops moving.

you want to drive around with your family forever.

it is too cold to face the music today.

charlie stops the car leaves it running looks in the rearview mirror at you and maura and constance.

you look through the window as they come.

the come a tidal wave of bodies a sea of dark grey power suits and pencil skirts microphones like fuzzy headed demons cameras big enough to steal a dozen souls they come.

they step on each other they feed off each other.

maura can hear their questions though the glass they make her wince and grip your hand you want to tell her it's okay

you cannot hear them you are living between radio stations

just you and her and in between station static love.

white noise love

and the feel of her lips on your knuckles.

more than half of a smile. for her. and gone like the flash of a camera.

she is quick enough to notice.

but then her eyes are wide. she's looking over you, past you into the sea of tinas and roberts and backtoyoutoms and you look too and youre wide eyed too because theres a face you know.

theres two faces you know.

theres three...ten. twenty. fifty faces you know.

and riley and barry are bumping aside the sheilas and the teds and the whatstheweatherdaves and they are just leading. they are just leading this sea of faces you know and there must be seventy five of them.

until up to the courthouse it is just the faces of your classmates.

their faces, or the backs of their heads as they wave their hands in front of the cameras and push the microphones out of hands

and maybe accidentally but im not so very sorry step on the feet of the news reporters.

you understand the busses now. it did not make sense before.

and when ms. grow opens the door to the back of your car you hug her tight in a long and wonderful sort of way that the news cameras would love if they could get a shot between a hundred screaming kids two deep and not giving an inch.

you separate the voices that you love.

constance high. all gratitude and hands to heart

richard, deep and hoarse means hold it together

maura. low. like honestly. like look at all these people.

riley alissa frost stay close to her.

ms grow lets you go after a long long while. pulls you after the four of them towards the door and its a clear path of yelling kids and waving hands and stomping feet.

you look up at them as they pass by and if they are on the inside they nod at you or they smile and their faces say we were not here and now we are.

at the foot of the steps is lira and you go slack jawed what happened as she body checks a sneaky reporter.

she does not even look at maura who gapes past her and then gapes back over her shoulder, but she looks at you and you read it all there in her face.

ms. grow squeezes your arm when you get to the door, kids closing in around you for privacy to the last second.

she smiles and nods for you to follow your family. she says words and you can understand her because shes come all this way to help you.

you want to say thank you.

all you do is hum like nerves and a dangerous gag reflex.

she understands. pushes you off down the hall. gentle.

_it's nothing. it's not nearly enough. _

_it's a start. _

_..._

today: a doctor to say how starving you were...and constance.

alex takes him through it so well that the defense does not ask any questions during their turn but you are unsatisfied.

she does not ask the right questions but it does not matter.

the doctor is round and red. he does not know starving from knitting.

you scowl.

maura hums love, squeezes your hand, and it only makes you lighten a bit.

starving lost you weight. okay.

starving made you easier to tie made your hipbones stick out made you look at food different made you hoard it made you binge it made you hate it.

but starving made you superhuman. made things fly. made days disappear made cold cold cold seem like simmering, made lying down a necessity made staying out of sight a piece of cake.

cake.

starving made you ration made you plan made you pick up what you could carry and leave the rest behind made you a summer where your nutrition came mainly from worms in the park made you rich when you found little boys would bet you a quarter you wouldn't do it made you love school trashcans made you love any trashcans made you small enough to fit through the gates of the playground after hours made it so you could swing by yourself in the moonlight

and pretend you were flying.

you lean against your father and when he puts his arm around you you drop your weight completely.

you listen to the man who does not know starving talk about how starving you were.

like there's only one way.

and then constance.

and then.

...

your mother that is constance isles has a face like a building you know about but have never visited.

you watch her and not the defense attorney and you can see how she wanted to build expressions.

originally. before she knew you existed.

back then

she wanted them sleek and gothic and breathtaking.

she wanted them elegant but not weight bearing.

no matter what she wanted them beautiful

'oh, that's awful' beautiful.

'oh, i'm so happy' beautiful.

nothing so much as a face to be studied and commented upon. but never tested or tried or searched of merit. a face for galas. not little girls.

but everybody wants to modernize.

and constance isles has a face that can prove it.

angry and aggressive. you watch her swipe one delicate manicured hand down through the air and her face is all angles and lines and the harsh understanding that the life you've chosen is not the one you were best suited to live. the realization that whats best has been already been taken bruised and replaced for the next person to try.

_my child was fourteen. we were never gone more than two months. she had nannies and drivers and anything she needed, and don't you dare try to pull a class move on me, because if i didn't have the money to protect her, i never. would have. left her. _

her eyes find yours.

_It is not the same. _

but alex makes constance your mother.

unfinished and waiting to be whole, like the building you know but have never been to.

she makes your mother soft and open and waiting to be made whole.

alex breaks her down and makes her cry. it takes a moment and harsh words and maura and your father get stiff armed and tight jawed.

but when constance.

when your mother cries.

angela loses.

she looks at you. she looks at you like no one else is in the whole room and she says your name and she tells you she loves you.

_i want to be your mother. if you'd let me._

and its probably objection objection, but you are choosing what you hear, it seems, and all your ears want is her. she says your name.

and from her its like growing. from her your name

could

be

free.

...

home.

home and dinner, something hot and pasta and red and good in your stomach like security.

you shower. pad down the stairs in pajamas, just one pant and one shirt for watching tv.

the shower loosens you like pulling apart cotton.

you hear walk breath are okay again. maybe. for the moment.

outside the kitchen you hear your mom talking to marisol her voice low questioning. nervous.

you stop. walking breathing. you stop.

_you could teach me? _your mother.

_marisol can teach you. yes. _you squint think hard. come up with nothing.

_her birthday is april. do you think i could learn by then? _frustrated. _what does it matter who makes it?_

marisol incredulous like so many times before with you.

_you love her. you hold fierce. fight anything for her. _you watch your mother nod.

_you bake her __something with love like that. she know it came from you. _

you go back up the stairs quiet and come back down slow to give your mother time to go in the living room.

to give you time to dry your eyes if they need it but maybe they don't so shut up about it.

.

everyone on the couch but you.

you stand behind in the doorway watching this family.

you separate the voices that you love.

constance high. getting comfortable and sleepy

richard. deep and quick means maura give me the remote right now.

and maura. quiet like content. like almost.

_where's jane?_

she looks around and you stand in the doorway still unsure after all this time.

tomorrow you have to get on the stand.

tomorrow you have to tell them all who your mother is.

tomorrow you have

tomorrow youre half.

_come here! i saved a spot. _

too many knees and elbows for a couch with three seat cushions. too much on top of and under and around and too much too much hands on your hands in your hair. too much mother at your feet and father at your shoulders and girlfriend in the middle. too much too much for you from before.

now not enough at all.

maura steals kisses during fight scenes. she whispers in your ear how strong.

_lion girl._

_my brave, brave heart. _

you get shivers up your spine.

tomorrow you have...

tonight. you are whole.


	33. Chapter 33

You find her in the back of your closet, cross legged, eyes shut.

You're not sure how you knew she was there, only that you didn't even check her room when you went looking. You just found her.

Now you pull the door closed behind you and slide in beside her, the light from the slats of the closet door throwing patterns across your skin. You lean forward and put your head on her shoulder, and her eyes flutter but stay closed.

She's breathing deep and even. Not crying. And you understand that she hasn't come here because she's afraid. She isn't running and she isn't hiding.  
You understand that what she wants is silence.

So you press against her side, and she wraps an arm around you and sighs.

You don't say anything.

...

* * *

Alex had come to the house shortly after you'd arrived home. Jane had disappeared up the stairs immediately, your mother watching her go, nervous, wondering if she should follow, but you'd pulled the door open on the District Attorney, and both your parent's attention shifted.

_They took the jury back about twenty minutes ago. I'd like to say it's going to be open and shut, but...who knows. _She looked at you with her blue eyes like fire. _How is she?_

You glance behind you at the stairs. If Jane heard the bell ring, she didn't come down. You look back at Alex. _Resting. _

She'd nodded, surveying you. _You take care of her. _To your parents. _She did amazingly today. She was a champion. I could not have asked for more. _

and she'd turned away. _There's nothing left to do but wait. _Already clicking back to the car that brought her. _I'll call the moment I know anything. _

For a moment, you'd watched her walking away. The afternoon was windy and she held her peacoat shut with one hand, and her hair out of her eyes with the other.

You remembered what Jane said, about her being married to another woman.

You'd run after her, the wind catching your own hair and whipping it back.

The wind swallowed her name from your lips, so when you caught up to her, you'd taken her arm.

She spun, eyebrows up. _Maura?_

You'd sucked in breath, the March air cold down your throat and in your stomach. You'd hoped it would bolster you. like bravery.

_Thank you. _The wind took your first attempt like it'd been whispered, but you'd straighten your spine so you stood straight like the lawyer in front of you. The eyebrows raised higher.

You tried again. _Thank you...For protecting her in there...For risking contempt. _

Alexandra Cabot looked at you for a moment, and you looked back, wondering what she was thinking. Wondering what she was like when she was your age.

_You're welcome_. Her smile is genuine. _Of course. You're welcome, Maura. _

* * *

_..._

Together, in the semi darkness, you fall a little bit more in love with her.

She plays with your fingers, slipping hers in between yours over and over again, like she loves the sensation.

You tilt your head so you can kiss her neck.

You still don't speak.

Downstairs you can hear your parents talking. You hear the door open and shut and your mother greeting Marisol, arriving to make dinner.

Jane makes no move to leave the closet and so you don't either. You take your free hand and you run it along her jaw. And in the slanted light from outside, you can see parts of her. in grey scale. her pale skin reflects the evening light and makes you think of a black and white movie. A silent film.

It's just the two of you.

The world is silent.

When she presses her lips against yours, you scoot forward to drape your legs in her lap. If this were a silent movie, the screen that came after this scene would be your words.

_You're so brave. I love you so much. you're so strong. _

She holds you close and you can feel her thoughts in every contraction of her muscles.

It's love and protection in its basest form.

There aren't even any words that could express it.

...

* * *

Angela's defense attorney was tall and broad shouldered. You could tell that Jane didn't like him at all, and the moment he stood up, she seemed to shrink on the stand.

She'd glanced at you, and you'd smiled. encouraging, aching to go to her the anxiety and fear inside you like a living and breathing entity. rocketing around.

He'd looked over his glasses at Jane before starting. She'd shivered.

**You called your mother every day?**

_When I could..._

She looked back at him, steadily. You wanted to hold her.

**And you never told her that Charles Hoyt was abusing you?**

_No. _

**You never said, Ma, come home. I need you?**

_No. _

Her voice was strong and you were so proud you could burst.

**You never said, Ma, Charles tied me up last night? **

Alex rolled her shoulders and pushed herself to her feet. Pissed already. _Is this going somewhere, your honor?_

The defense attorney had smiled. Oily. Like he'd been waiting for her to object.

**I'll speed it up for you, counselor...Jane. For the three years that you were both physically and sexually abused. For the three years that you were starved...You confided in no one. Is that correct? **

_y-yes..._

Jane's eyes found yours, confused. You looked back that you didn't know. You didn't know where he was going. If you'd known...

**He called you beautiful, didn't he? Charles?**

_...and ugly...and wicked. _

**So, he gave you all his attention. All the time, Am I correct? Very different from a mother with two infant children. **

_...w-what?_

Alex was standing again, and she was full of objections. The judge leaned forward, waving her away. The defense attorney looked hard at Jane.

**Did part of you like being with him, Jane?**

There was a silence so complete that you thought for a moment that the entire world had lost its sound. There was no sound left in the world and then

_NO! _Pulled from her like pulling a tooth. And Alexandra Cabot was standing again and the way she said objection could have severed an artery.

But there was nothing to object, besides the outright obscenity of the question itself, and the Judge pointed at Alex, a warning, before swallowing and allowing it.

**You told no one. Not your beloved teacher. Not your best guy friend. Not your mother. **

_I...I wanted her to be happy. She sounded so happy over the phone. _

She was breaking. You'd moved to get up, you couldn't help it, but your father held you steady, his jaw working.

**What I know about teenagers does not hold up with your testimony, Ms. Rizzoli, did you know that? What I'm wondering about is what kept you from holding back for so long. Did you love him? Did it feel good and then you felt guilty?**

You were going to throw up. You made a noise like someone strangling you, and she'd looked up at you, her face terrified.

Oh God.

_NO! No No No. She'd be mad. I couldn't. I felt...I couldn't. _

Alexandra stood up again. It's bullying. He's bullying. She'd points at the other attorney, coming around the table. Do not let him-

**He was ****_raping _****you, Jane! You were worried she'd be mad? Or was it sex with an older man and you were worried- **

But then. Alexandra Cabot threw a book at him.

She threw a book at him and she came around the table to pull at the partition between the galley and the tables, beckoning to you as she spoke.

_OBJECTION. _She'd looked angrier. more terrible, than you'd ever seen anyone. _If you say one more word to her I will gut you, you sick son of a bitch. If that's not bullying I don't know what is. I need a recess and I need one now. _

And the judge had no choice but to grant her one, because everyone was speaking, and because Jane was curled up on the stand like she was trying to disappear.

And Alex called you forward and pushed you towards her and you could not get your arms around her fast enough.

You held her. On the witness stand. You whispered into her hair and she shivered and shivered but you didn't let her go. you pulled her tearstained face up to yours and kissed her.

You didn't care if everyone saw.

* * *

...

It's your mother's voice that wakes you, half in Jane's lap, in the back of your closet.

Your mother's voice and it's leaning towards frantic, and when you push your way out of the closet, her face is surprised and relieved all in one.

_What were you doing back there?_

Her arm comes around you like she just wants to feel you're there. To make sure.

_Narnia. _Jane has come out behind you, and her voice is raspy and low. She looks back at your mother, straight faced. _Maura and I are queens in another world. _

You giggle. Jane flashes you half of a grin.

Your mother is unsure and then she is laughing. _Well, thank you, your highnesses, for returning in time for dinner. I hope you saved room for pot roast. _

Jane turns away from you and your mother, towards the door and the delicious smell that is sneaking up the stairs.

_Yeah, mom, of course we did. _

She says it like it's nothing. comfortable and sweet.

But when you look at your mother,

you realize it's everything.

...

* * *

She'd stayed on the stand.

She did not get up, even though Alex offered her several outs.

She didn't take any of them.

_Did you ever just...know something, but you didn't want to admit it? Like...You take a test and you know you got an F? Or...You get up to bat and you just know you're going to strike out? _You were back in your seat next to your mother and father...you watched her as she gathered herself.

_You try to tell yourself otherwise. Maybe I got a D... that's still passing..._She looks up. _Something like that. _

Alex's voice had been soft and firm. guiding.

**You're saying you knew your mother wasn't coming back? **

Jane had sighed. _I knew...She knew I wasn't okay...I knew she wasn't coming back. _

**And you remained silent anyway. **

_She was my mother. If that was what she wanted... _

You looked up at her words. Alex hadn't missed them either.

**You said was. She's not your mother anymore? **

_Constance Isles is my mother now. Legally...and..._

**Emotionally?**

_yes. _

And your mother had taken a breath that she'd struggled to let out, though her eyes had remained dry.

**Jane. Should your mother...Angela... go to jail? For abandoning you?**

A pause...Jane had looked at you, thinking.

_Sometimes I want nothing more in the world. _

**And other times?**

_I ...I think she should mother her boys. _

**Do you love Angela Rizzoli. **

_Yes. _Without hesitation.

**...Do you forgive her?**

_..._

**Jane?**

_I...I don't know. _

* * *

_..._

You watch a movie with your family in your parent's oversized bed before dinner.

Jane picks the movie Homeward Bound, an she pops the DVD into the player and turns around, looking at all of you, already on the bed.

She will never be pudgy, much to Marisol's dismay, and in her boxers and t-shirt, she looks tall and muscular. vulnerable.

strong.

You pat the bed next to you, between you and your father. She hesitates.

_There's a pair of sweatpants on the back of the door over there. _Your father. Always understanding.

But Jane shakes her head. She crawls up the bed into her spot.

Your father is nervous and then awed and then overwhelmed. He stays very still.

You want to tell her you love her and you're proud of her, and you'll never, ever, leave her.

you pinch her elbow.

She smiles, leaning against you, eyes closing. _I'm like that dog._ She is sleepy and you don't blame her. _In the movie. _

A lazy hand waves at the TV screen. Your mother stifles a chuckle.

_He was in a bad place, but he got rescued. _Jane rolls, and her head comes to rest against your father's shoulder.

He looks terrified, but your mother reaches over you to pull at his arm until Jane is settled in the crook.

_You rescued me. _She sighs. Half asleep. _I got rescued. _

Your mother squeezes your hand, pressing a kiss to the side of your head and you don't think about verdicts or media or any of it. You close your eyes too, and your mother squeezes you again as she murmurs against your hair.

_We all did. _


	34. Chapter 34

.

Innocent.

.

You're six years old and your mother says, _wake up. _She says. _get up, sleepy head. snowday. _

You're up. Your eyes are open and your head pops up because you are six and any child with a pulse who goes to school knows that word.

Your eyes find hers, sparkly and excited in the grey before dawn, and you're _really? really mama? snowday?_

And she's _yes. yes. no school get out of bed. _

_let's go sledding. _

You don't know time, but you know that it is early because when you stop at the corner store, Mama puts three creams and eight sugars in her coffee. You count out loud where it's easier and Mama counts along with you, stifling a yawn.

_Six. seven. eight! Good girl. I knew that teacher was lying. You know your numbers just fine. _

And you beam because she's almost called you smart, and because she put down Mr. Grayson your teacher, who makes you stand in the corner when your eights come out like the letter s.

It is just you and her and you love her more than anything in the world.

You are six and so your world is one barbie that you look at in the window of the toy store, two matchbox cars you found in a supermarket that your mother let you keep and seventeen crayola crayons, well, one is going to be gone soon.

Your world is one picture book about a very soft rabbit and three glow in the dark stars on the wall by your mattress.

But yes. you'd give it all up to count sugars at the Cumberland Farms with your Mama forever.

She buys a cup of coffee and a pack of nick o teen gum (not for kids) and one sled, round and blue, with white rope handles, and you roll it down the street by her side, giggling at nothing.

_nick o teen. nicko neeko nick o teen. Mama. what is nick o teen? _

Your mother glances both ways before tugging you across the street by the hood. You almost drop the sled. You can see the park three blocks away and getting closer. your feet do a jig without your permission.

_It's to help me stop smoking. _

Gum to stop smoking? That makes you giggle more. Absurd.

You don't ask her why she wants to stop smoking and so she does not tell you that it's because she is pregnant.

That conversation does not happen.

You roll your sled towards the park, and your feet in your boots do a dance of their own invention without even checking with your brain first.

_Mama, _more things occur to you while you wait for the light to change. _You're not working today. You got a snow day too?_

Her face goes sour and for a moment, you are cold cold like the snow that accidentally snuck into your mitten.  
But you wish real hard and God must hear you, becuase her face smooths out and she takes your hand this time to cross the street.

_My boss said I could have a snow day today too. to be with you. _

Oh. well that is wonderful. your hands make joy circles in the air. _nice boss man. nice nice man. _everyone is so nice when it snows. Everyone is so nice.

Your mother looks at you, but you only notice out of the corner of your eye. you are watching the light on the next corner, wondering if it will stay walking-man long enough for you and Mama to make it to the park right now.

It does not. It goes red-hand just as you get there. you sigh. _If there's a snowday tomorrow too, ask nice man boss if you can have one again, Mama. _

She looks off down the road, away from you.

You look too but there's nothing.

_That won't be a problem. _ Her voice is light like a swing is at the top of an arc. Before is tumbles back around and knocks you off your feet.

But you don't hear that. You're six and it's snowing and you have a brand new sled.

You have mittens (uh oh, just one mitten now...you shove your bare hand in your pocket) and Mama and a barbie doll you can visit any old time you want.

You're the luckiest girl in the world.

...

.

Guilty.

.

_A D? Why do you even fucking go to school? Are you stupid?_

You're not stupid.

_Are you fucking around in class? _

no. you're not. you try really hard.

_Well it's one or the other. A fucking D in math. You're an idiot. You must be an idiot. Or I'm the idiot for saying you should stay in school and not make yourself useful, get an odd job or something. Help support your brothers. _

on cue. the baby is crying. screaming.

_now look what you did. _

yes. look what you did. you close your eyes. you try to breathe a little bit. you're not an idiot.

_Are you back talking me? Are you going to bring a D home and then back talk to me? _the baby won't stop crying. you should pick him up. you read in a book in the library that babies need to be picked up a lot. held and talked to.

Mama doesn't have time.

You read in the book that post par tum depression is one of the hardest depressions to diagnose and treat.

You don't want the baby to suffer for something he's not old enough to know that he did.

It was an accident.

_Where do you think you're going? Trying to walk away from me when I'm talking to you? What do you think I do? Eat bonbons all day so that you can go to class and daydream and bring home a D that says your a fucking idiot?_

two scared brown eyes behind the couch. Baby brother hides when Mama's like this.

She is not always like this.

But she had the baby, and they would only let her part time back at her job and you can hear her crying sometimes at night, when she thinks everyone else is sleeping.

Usually you go into her room, and you crawl into bed with her and she holds you tight enough to make you wince.

But you never move away.

Usually you are the first one awake and you make her cereal and bring it to her in bed, and she smiles and calls you her best girl in the world, and does not say anything about chex mix with water.

The milk expired seven days ago. You leave it in the refrigerator because its the only thing in there.

But today you set her off, and she runs her hand through her hair and she looks desperate, like when you corner a cat in an alleyway.

You try to make it better. You got an A in social studies.

_Nobody cares about social studies? When have you ever asked someone what they did for a living and they said, 'social studies.' But listen, you fail math and you'll get cheated out of everything in your life. Stupid ass. _

baby. you should go get the baby and hold him. tell him that he's good and wonderful and a bright baby boy. He's going to be great at math.

you don't move.

you say that the numbers are moving. She stares at you and you are instant regret like instant coffee. Say the wrong thing.

Just add remorse.

She slaps you hard enough that you taste blood in your mouth, rusty like pennies you find in the storm drains.

You're training baby brother to spot them and pick them up. spit wash them and hide them in the jar behind the dresser in your room.

You know what poor is. You don't ask for anything. You try to keep your mouth shut. You can't.

_Ma. The numbers...they like...zoom away, I swear to God. I don't know what's-_

But she slaps you again and you shut up.

You go get the baby.

You tell him he is smart and beautiful and when he grows up he can be anything that he wants to be. You name him a bunch of different careers, doctor, lawyer, real estate agent. _you could be a nurse like mama even. if you wanted. _

He looks back at you. he has brown eyes like yours. He has a nose that's going to look like yours too, and long skinny fingers already.

You shake your head and you rub his fuzzy head. he smiles at you and you know it's just gas. the book said.

he looks just like you.

_you can be anything. _you love him.

_you don't have to be stupid, like me._

...

Maura finds you under the stars.

She crawls in and doesn't say anything, just presses her lips to yours.

You love her.

She slides her fingers between yours because she knows you love the way it feels. The way goosebumps race up your arms every time like it's the newest, best sensation there is. She doesn't ask you what you're thinking about.

She lets you float for a minute. between the past and here. Only when you look down at her, does she speak.

_Alex called. They're ready for us._

You open your eyes. You close them again.

_I called Barry, Alissa and Riley. Ms. Grow says she wants to come to. If it's alright with you. _

You close your eyes.

_They want to be there for you... can you let them?_

_My mother from six. she shouldn't go to jail. _She doesn't act like she has no idea what you're talking about. She doesn't even look surprised. _she loved me. _

Maura nods.

_People change. _The truth, as best you can get it out.

Maura looks at you sharply. She puts both her hands on your face and her palms are cool and soft, and they hold you to the ground like an anchor.

_Not me_.

You open your eyes. _My brothers. _You can't go on. You love them and you want to see them, and jealousy is eating you. All at the same time. You don't know who has them. You haven't had the heart to ask. But you heard the newscast from the stairs. Heard Constance breathe a sigh that was somewhere between relief and disappointment. Heard Richard say. _We'll check up on them, Connie. _

But you didn't ask about it. You couldn't. She told them that you were dead.

_My brothers. _

she pulls your head so that your foreheads are touching. _deserve to know you. _she finishes the sentence for you.

You don't cry.

This new girl. The one that you are becoming. She is fast and strong and tough. She does not cry.

_What if she's innocent?_

A pause. Green eyes search your face, thoughtful and deep and lovely. _I'll still love you. Mom and dad will still love you. This will still be your home. _

You shiver. _What if she's guilty?_

Maura leans forward to kiss you again. And when she does you can see everything that could happen ever, and everything you want to happen, laid out in front of you like a movie. She presses her lips to yours and you've never felt the future so acutely as you do right then.

in that moment with her.

She pulls back. She smiles at you.

_The same._

_..._

Everyone is there. Barry and Alissa and Riley, dressed up and in the row behind you. Frost brought you a bag of malted milk balls. _chocolate milkshake in a cup._ he says. _for helping me get Alissa to be my girl._

You grin, not feeling hollow for a second, _you needed all the help you could get_.

He punches at you. The way friends do when they're joking.

Ms. Grow is there, but she doesn't look at you. She doesn't stop to say hello. You frown, wondering, but there's no time.

Alex is calling you, and when you reach her, she puts her hand on your shoulder.

_Are you scared?_

You look up at her and you tell her the truth. _No. _

She nods once. _Good girl._

.

**On the first count, child abuse in the second degree, how do you find. **

_We find the defendant guilty _

**On the second count, Endangering the welfare of a child in the first degree, how do you find?**

_We find the defendant guilty. _

**_On the third count..._**

.

In ancient times, they thought the world was flat.

It must have been scary, to believe differently, when everyone was yelling at you that this one thing was true. It must have been scary to tear yourself away from everything and everyone you loved and travel off towards what anyone else would call certain death.

**.**

**On the ninth count, criminal negligence involving a minor, how do you find?**

We find the defendant guilty.

**On the tenth count, criminal negligence involving a minor, how do you find?**

We find the defendant...guilty.

.

It was common knowledge and everyone believed it. You would sail to the edge of the earth and you would fall off.

You would die.

No one would be there to save you.

.

**On the seventeenth charge, criminal negligence involving a minor, how do you find?**

_We find the defendant, guilty. _

**And on the eighteenth and final charge, criminal negligence involving a minor, how do you find?**

_We find the defendant...guilty. _

_. _

But Christopher Columbus thought the world was round. Everyone said he was stupid. They called him names. His parents and neighbors might even have roughed him up a little. trying to knock some sense into him.

The world. round.

ridiculous.

But he got in he boat and he sailed off anyway.

And he found something new and dangerous and wounderous and wild.

Untamable and beautiful.

.

For the third time in as many days, someone forgets to turn the volume up on the world. Alex and is hugging you, and then Maura and Constance and RIchard.

Then Barry is there and Alissa and Riley and everyone is talking and touching you and you can't hear anything.

Your mother is sitting, hands in her lap, looking at nothing. Her lawyer is talking to her, hunched over so he can speak in her ear, but you know that she can't hear the world either.

Maybe she feels you looking at her, because she looks around suddenly and you meet her eyes.

She looks at you. Her face doesn't change. It doesn't get harder or softer. It doesn't crack into a smile or soften into tears.

She just looks at you and you look back.

You want to memorize her face. You want to remember her in that moment. Just your mother.

nothing that can hurt you.

She mouths one word. Maybe she says it. You can't hear anything.

But you can read her lips.

_Good-bye. _

Not heartfelt and teary, or cold and distant. Just a word.

Just an end.

It is more than she ever said when she was leaving before.

you turn away from her.

_Mom. I want to go home._

Constance nods immediately, and she wraps her arms around you like safety like okay like anything you want you lionhearted girl I am so proud of you.

You look at Maura. She is beaming at you.

she is everything.

.

In the hall. there is a surprise.

Frankie and Tommy. dressed in little tuxedos that make you smile. sitting on a bench outside the courtroom.

Frankie looks up at you when you come out of the two double doors and you freeze, and he freezes.

You heart is racing.

He moves first, getting up and walking towards you, Tommy's pudgy little hand tight in his, and suddenly your family has moved away. Suddenly it is just the three of you.

_Hi._ He says this to his shoes.

You half grin. _Hi. _

for a moment, silence. You wonder at his height and his shaggy brown hair. You wonder what you should say.

_Frankie...I-_

But he hugs you, and your words are meaningless. He hugs you hard. and when he lets you go, Tommy hugs your leg. And you are done.

You are crying.

And Frankie's eyes are a little wet. He looks up at you. _You're crying. _

You roll your shoulders. _So are you._

He shrugs, _shut up about it._ And you laugh. more like a hiccup. He glances up at you and away again. _Jane?_

he has said your name and you can only nod.

_I'm glad you're not dead. _

Oh God. _Me too._ The truth. The best you can get out. You hug him again. _Are you alright? Are you going to be alright?_

He nods. He points over his shoulder. _Yes. We're staying with Laura. She's really, super nice._

Laura. You look up, where he's pointing.

You are crying again.

It's Ms. Grow.

...

After you've hugged her. After you've assured her your not mad that she didn't tell you (_I didn't know if you'd be alright with it). _After you cried and Constance and Maura and Richard had come over, and all of you had cried again.

After Tommy called you "sissy" and Constance and Ms. Grow set up the first available night for a family dinner.

It's just you and Maura in the back of the car on the way home.

Your parents had gone out the front, distracting the media, and Charlie had slipped around back to pick you up.

You lean against her and she wraps an arm around you. The car is quiet and warm and comfortable.

_Are you alright?_

She asked you that on the first morning you woke up in her house. Recovering from being caught in a rainstorm. still dressed in her father's sweatshirt.

She asks it again now, in the same soft voice, with the same no pressure smile.

You open your mouth. shut it again.

No one's ever asked it that way before. You want to answer honestly.

_I'm going to be a police officer. _Her eyes widen a little bit, but she doesn't interrupt you.

_I'm going to be a police officer and I'm going to help people. I'm going to save them, like you saved me. _

_That way. what we have. it won't ever really die. It won't ever mean nothing. Not if I carry it on. _

She looks at you, and her eyes are green. like the prettiest you've ever seen. She opens her mouth, but then shuts it again. She puts her head against your chest.

she breathes.

You smile. You know.

_I love you too. _


	35. Chapter 35

_She's gasping. _

_pressing. moaning against you and your hands are up in her hair down her back, up into her hair again. She hitches and hesitates and you nod and nod, because you can't say anything. _

_Coherent thought left you an hour ago. _

_Plus your lips are doing something much better than speaking. You're mapping the smooth and delicate skin that covers her trachea. Your teeth are grazing a jaw that tightens and relaxes and tightens. You sigh. _

_She moans again and you're ready. You're ready. _

_You sure? Brown eyes open with her question. Panting, but still, beneath you._

_Underneath you. She…_

_Maura. Are you sure?_

_..._

You roll over to an empty bed.

You'd fallen asleep wrapped around her, your head tucked under her chin like the hollow curve of her neck and shoulder were made just to fit you. You're not sure how she got out of bed without waking you. You must have slept hard.

You sit up and stretch and next to you, a piece of paper slides off her pillow onto the bed. You pick it up and you recognize her hand writing, tall and narrow. More confident by the day.

_Find me. _

At once you are pushing back the covers and struggling out of bed.

It is Sunday, April, and the sun is bright and clear and streams in your window like a promise.

You pull on a sundress, bright and flowing like the way you love her these days. Easy. Slow and beautiful

In your room, you pull back the curtains fully on a sky that is blue and inviting and endless.

You know that Jane has gone out.

You don't blame her.

You're going to find her.

The days slide by and they seem to mirror your girlfriend perfectly. They get warmer as she gets stronger. They start to stretch like her laugh. Like the number of nights she can go without a nightmare.

Her room is empty, like you knew it would be, but it hasn't been for long. You can feel her presence there like she's just walked out the door.

You close your eyes and you can see her smile, impish and clever, thrown over her shoulder at you as she slips out the door.

You look down at her desk and there's another one. You knew there would be.

_Hi beautiful. _

You grin. You can hear her say it.

_Come on. Come find me. _

You fold this note into your pocket with the other one, grinning. You can't stop grinning.

You're back in the hall and then down the stairs to the kitchen like a blur.

She was there.

Her cereal bowl and spoon drying on the rack like she's been taught. Like mom nags her about almost every day, both of them sighing and rolling their eyes like it's the most annoying thing in the world.

But when your mother is gone, on a trip, or out early, Jane washes her bowl and spoon without being told, and you know that 'forgets' it so that her mother will nag her.

Her mother.

There's one of your favorite breakfast bars on the counter. Laid out like it's waiting for you. You grab it and the piece of paper underneath flutters to the floor.

You pick it up and turn it over, and it's a drawing of a flower, intricate and just bloomed, like the ones you pass on the way to the park.

_I love you. _

No request this time, but you hear it anyway. You're aching to see her.

You grab your coat from the hall and you pull the door open on the bright spring morning.

* * *

Alex found you and Jane in the park last weekend. You were sitting with Tommy on your lap while Jane taught Frankie basketball.

She'd set him up and he'd heaved the orange ball at the hoop and when it had finally fallen through, everyone had cheered, even Tommy, his chubby hands high in the air.

_Looks like we've got a future NBA star on our hands. _ You turned around to see Alex, jeans and a button down shirt, followed closely by a dark haired woman you didn't recognize, though you knew at once who she must be.

Jane called to Tommy and he slid off your lap, running out onto the court.

_How are you, Maura?_ Casual and informal, with her hands in her pockets, you'd liked this Alexandra Cabot immensely.

_We're alright._ Your answer had made the dark haired woman chuckle.

You felt Jane behind you before her hand had snuck into yours, warm from the sun. Her dark eyes had slid, first over Alex, and then over her wife, for you were sure that's who this woman must be.

_She's sentenced. _Jane will never like pleasantries. You smiled.

Alex nodded, looking between you…out to where Frankie was trying to teach Tommy to dribble, then back.

_Seven to ten. _It's not the maximum. It's not even half. You'd felt Jane's hand contract in yours.

You'd squeezed back. _Will she stay in jail for all of that?_

Alex had looked over her glasses at you. _No. She'll most likely do four or five and then be paroled. _

You'd been ready to buffer. To comfort Jane and smooth out her anger and hurt at a sentence that seemed far too light. But your girlfriend had not said anything. had not even moved for a moment. And then

_Will she take my brothers? When she gets out?_

Alex's head shake was forceful. _No. They'll stay with Laura._

Jane's hand had tightened in yours again. _Will she come for me? Or Maura?_

Another head shake. _If she tries she goes right back to Jail. _

And Jane had nodded twice and turned away, back to the court and her siblings. You'd watched her go, astounded, and after a moment, with a quick look at her wife, Alex had followed her, calling for the basketball, leaving you and this woman alone together on the bench.

For a moment you just sat and watched the people you loved.

_That's one strong kid._ You'd jumped. The woman's voice was deep like Jane's, but not rough. She'd smiled at you, held out a hand. _Olivia. _

You'd shaken hands and words had tumbled out of you by accident. _You're Alex's wife. Jane reminds her of you. _

For a moment, she'd looked impassive, but then she'd smiled and you could see why Alex loved her. She's beautiful. _And you're Jane's girlfriend. Alex said you were a little her. Upfront and brilliant. _

You blushed. _Maura. _

You both looked back out at the court, where Alex was trying to steal the ball from Jane. Olivia chuckled. _Terrifying in the courtroom…and nowhere else._

You'd looked at her. _You love her._ Another observation that you'd meant to keep in your head. But Olivia just laughed again, glancing at you. _I imagine I love her just as much as you love Jane. _And she'd looked at you and her eyes were brown and deep and intense. _You love her, right?_

From anyone else, you would have bristled. For this woman, you could not find the adequate words.

_So much that I think it can't grow anymore. And then I wake up in the morning. And it has. _

Olivia's smile is truly amazing. _That's good. _She'd glanced out onto the court. _Because I'll tell you a secret._

And you'd leaned closer because you love secrets.

_People like me. People like Jane. What we've been through… _And her face had gone hard for a moment, and you knew that she'd seen things that you couldn't imagine. _It makes us stop. _She'd swiped her hand through the air. Looking to see if you understood.

You nodded.

_And we can only start up again when we find people like Alex. _She'd looked back onto the court. Looking the way Jane looks sometimes when you come out of debate. She smiles at you. _only when we find people like you._

You don't want to cry, but it's everything you needed to hear. That this can work. That it's not impossible. _I won't ever let her go._

And Olivia had stood, gesturing that the two of you should join the shrieking people on the black top.

_You stay close to her. _Olivia had whispered as they'd moved forward. _You love her hard. Even when she pushes. She loves you more than she'll ever be able to tell you._

And you'd nodded, just getting the last word in before Jane's arms closed around your waist to lift you up to the sun like an offering.

Like thank you for this.

_Always. _

* * *

_Maura. Are you sure?_

_She doesn't mean to tease you. you're not sure she would even know how, but you are ready and you can read that she wants you and if you don't have her now you're going to deteriorate. Simply cease to exist._

_You roll so she's on top of you. So that she's straddling you and you pull her down and you kiss her and it can be cliché that you see fireworks but in the moment you don't care. You're electric. A live wire fire starter and she traces the inside of your thigh and you. might. die. _

_Jane. her name comes out like you're suffering. You are. Jane, honey. please. __please._

_She pulls back. You force your eyes open to look at her. _

_She looks dark and powerful and so god damn sexy, naked and wild and yours. _

_She's all fucking yours. _

_She starts to ask. The last time she needs to hear. You can tell by the way her eyes_

_consume you. She wants you. _

_You're ready. _

_She leans down close. will you…? she can't finish. but you hear. _

_need her_

_want her_

_trust her_

_help her_

_hold her_

_kiss her_

_laugh with her_

_stay with her_

_wait for her_

_love her. _

_love her love her love her. _

_Yes. Yes! God yes. Yes. All of those things. She doesn't have to ask you and your answer gets lost against her lips and you're wanting and wanting and then. _

_Oh. _

_You are full. _

_…_

The park is mostly empty. No one is up and out yet, but almost immediately you see two faces you know. Barry and Alissa, sitting on the bench in front of the basketball court. They're not talking. He has his arm stretched out over the back of the bench and she is leaning against him, eyes closed.

The sight makes you long for Jane.

Frost sees you and beckons to you, nudging Alissa who looks up sleepily, smiling as you approach.

_Barry?_ He grins at you. reaches into his back pocket and hands you a note. He nudges Alissa again and she huffs, still half asleep, and hands you a necklace. Just a little silver chain. Nothing special. Barry settles back against the bench, pointing to the path that leads to the upper level of the park, and you unfold the note as you walk away.

Excitement shoots up your spine.

_Beautiful and brilliant. I love you so much. _

_Come find me. _

You take the steps of the path two at a time.

It is hard to breathe.

_…_

_Yes?_

_Yes. more. more. please. more._

_Everything is blurring and melting. She's kissing you and each pass of her lips uncovers miniature land mines under your skin. _

_Tiny eruptions on your jaw. your neck. your mouth._

_Surely there is not enough room in your body for all of this. Your heart is racing against your throat. Under her lips. _

_More?_

_yes. more. more. god. please. more. _

_no words. _

_She reads your breathing and you read her body. you answer her with anything she needs so that she knows. You need her to know you trust her love her have got. to. have her. _

_You bury your head in her shoulder, your fingers pulling and pulling at her shoulder blades. closer. closer please. she obeys. as much as she can. _

_and she slides deeper. _

_and you're gone. _

_…_

She's there, at the end of the path. Jeans and a tank top. She's not facing you, and when you get to her, you run your hands over her shoulder. Over the faint raised lines from your nails.

You blush a little.

She turns to face you and you blush a lot. _Hi. _She's your lover now and that's the best thing you can come up with.

But she grins, she doesn't look away from you. _Hi beautiful. _She reaches out to finger the chain that Barry gave you.

You step closer. _It's pretty, Jane. Thank you. _

And she gives you a look, then then reaches into her pocket. _Dumbest genius I know, _she murmurs. But each word is so full of love that you can't even think to feel upset.

She pulls out a little silver pendant. Sparkling and engraved with seven little dots. Like a lopsided kite. One more off to the side. You grin.

_This is the big dipper. _She reaches out and fixes it to your necklace. You watch her face. Dark eyes. lip caught between her teeth in concentration. _Slaves would follow it from plantations, up to the north. Where they could be free. _She glances up at you and grins.

You fall a little.

_This star, out here, is the north star. It brings you home. _She takes your hands in hers. No gloves. Skin on skin makes you think of last night. You lean to rest your head on her chest but she holds you back so she can look in your eyes.

_You brought me home._ It doesn't matter if she means last year or last night. She puts her lips on yours.

_Maura. _you open your eyes. she smiles. _Maura. I love you. I love you so much. I'll always be there for you. You're my home. _

And you're not going to cry, but when she kisses you again, you realize you already are.

And your arms are around her wasit and her hands are in your hair and maybe it won't always be like this, but if you could have some moments.

Where it's just you and her in love in the park.

Then you will take everything else that comes.

Forever.

Her lips trace your ear. You're dying.

You're reborn.

Say her name. Quickly. Hold on to her.

Feel her smile. _Maura. _

She is everything.

_You found me. _

_**...**_

_**[End]**_


End file.
